


Metempsychosis

by carzla



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Background Relationships, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Explicit Language, F/M, Family, Gen, Memory Alteration, Mindfuck, Not Focused On Romance, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Suspense, Torture, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:17:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carzla/pseuds/carzla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Post DMC4] Half a year of relative peace has passed since the near destruction of Fortuna. But trouble loves the company of silver-haired half-demons, as Nero begins to discover in the form of strange, recurring dreams. Yet these dreams are soon to become the least of his worries as something, someone begins to awaken inside of him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in 2009.
> 
> Metempsychosis: the transmigration of the soul, especially the passage of a soul after death from a human or animal body to some other human or animal body; i.e. a fancier word for "reincarnation"

 

_Darkness. All around him was never-ending darkness, disorientating darkness… nothing else but the deepest, darkest black he had ever encountered._

_Silence. All encompassing, heavy, defeated silence._

_He realized he had never actually liked noise, but this quietness suffocated him. Then there was pain. Not from fresh bleeding wounds (did he even have a body now?), but from somewhere inside his consciousness. It burned from the inside out and felt like it was tearing his soul apart… and he didn’t know why._

_Why he was in this soundless blackness, why there was so much pain around him, in him… Why could he barely remember anything about his circumstances? Why couldn’t he remember anything at all? All he knew now was that he was free, but from what, he did not know._

_Vulnerability. It was a mark of being powerless… He hated that feeling. There was a sense of loss too, like he was missing something that had been with him for a very long time. He had an impression it was a sword. Not having it now was discomfiting, and he would have to find it as soon as it was possible. It wasn’t that he felt that he had no way to defend himself; he could feel a certain strength in him that had seemed to deter the vague impressions of danger he had got periodically at bay._

_But as disoriented as he currently was and the feeling of vulnerability that was plaguing him… It felt safer to have that sword with him. He wanted, no, he **needed** to know what had happened to him, to know why he had this amnesia. To do that, he needed to heal from **something** … He hated not knowing what it was, but instinct told him he had to rest in a safe place… and instinct told him that this was not it._

_He wandered in the darkness, not knowing if he was going around in circles or making actual progress. Everything looked the same, was just the same nothingness. He persevered on. There was a way out of it. He would make his way out of it._

_It was then when he heardfeltsensed a silent call, a tug on his consciousness. He followed it without hesitation because it felt right, and with nothing to guide him but his instincts it was his only hope. The call guided him along, and there was a sudden sense of danger passed. There was still no familiarity in his surroundings. Was it due to his lost memories? It was now just grey, grey that was gradually lightening into white._

_Then he heard sounds of life breaking through the barrier of silence just as the white bled into color and he saw objects, people and demons…_

* * *

He wasn’t going to make it. Oh god no. He _had to_ make it there, make it to her in time. It was imperative that he did so. But the distance between them, and the rapidly increasing mass of demons that were in the way was making his already difficult task on the verge of impossibility, if it weren’t already downright impossible.

Damn it, and he had conveniently _not_ brought out any of his weapons today in his haste to meet her. It was downright foolish considering that Fortuna was known to be an area of frequent demon manifestations, and now it was very possible it was going to cost him her life.

“Kyrie!” he yelled as he raced towards her, fighting away the demons that were blocking his way with his bare hands.

But even as one demon fell, five more appeared to replace their fallen comrade. At this rate, he really wasn’t going to make it to her in time. She was going to… He was going to fail her, a thought that he did not even want to entertain even in less trying circumstances. He needed to do something. _Anything._ He had to. If only he had more power to defeat all of the demons in one blow, then she’d be safe. He needed more power. _Right now._

“KYRIE!”

* * *

_A silver-haired boy was shouting a name frantically in the street swarming with demons. There was only one other person there, a pretty brunette who was rapidly backing away from a horde of demons attempting to corner her. The tug on his consciousness guided him closer to the boy and then it was as if he could hear the boy’s thoughts, even though he didn’t think he had ever been telepathic._

_He knew that the boy wanted to save the girl and that he desired more power – a sentiment he could connect with immediately. He knew what it was like to hold absolute power, even if the specific memories eluded him now. He would undoubtedly find a way to reclaim what was rightfully his again – his power and his memories. This boy… seemed a suitable choice for his quest. He was young enough to be manipulated when the time came, although admittedly, there would be enough people around for him to choose from._

_It was that desire in the boy to become stronger and more powerful, whatever the reason, that settled it for him. That and there was an extraordinary familiarity to the boy which he could not place, but it was of no immediate consequence and he doubted there ever would be. Perhaps he had seen the boy before, when he still had his memories but it would not matter._

_Decision made, he approached the boy, noting that his call and desire for power was increasing. He would grant him the ability to save the girl, and in time to come, the boy would have to repay him for his “services”. Then he felt **something** from the boy, that marked him as not completely human… A half-demon then? It pleased him more to know that the boy had demon blood in him; he would be more resilient than if he were a normal human being. There was also a well of untapped power within the boy, and instinct (all that he had to go by now) told him that it was what he needed to regain himself again._

_He saw the boy’s outstretched right arm and he reached out for it, holding on to it firmly._

_“Power,” he whispered, though he thought it echoed loudly. “Give me more power.”_

* * *

Bright blue light suddenly engulfed his outstretched right arm, and something that felt like electricity surged through him. It stunned him momentarily, as he stared at his hand. When the light faded away, his arm had changed. What in nine hells had just happened to him? The shock had barely settled in before he heard a disembodied voice that resonated in his head and seemed to originate from his now demonic-looking arm.

_“Power. Give me more power.”_

Power. That was what he had wanted since the beginning of this. It was as if that voice was the key to triggering his awareness of his current situation again and he instinctively reached out with his changed arm to grab at the nearest demon. But it wasn’t his arm that reached it, instead, a huge spectral demonic arm, which looked exactly like his own right arm except for its size, that gripped the nearest _few_ demons instead and sent them crashing into the street in a gory splatter of blood.

The swathes of demons surrounding him, and even the ones advancing towards Kyrie, paused in their attack momentarily, as if shocked that their companions had met with such a bloody fate, as if they could sense that there was something vastly different from the boy before them.

He, however, grinned at the sight. The shock of seeing his arm transform into a demonic-looking one was long forgotten, and even if he remembered it later, it would not be of much concern. He could save Kyrie now, and that was all that mattered.

“You’re going to pay, bastards!”

* * *

_Entering the boy’s body let him know just how much untapped power the boy had, and how much of his own strength had to be drained to grant the boy his new ability. His own powers were acting as the boy’s own, as well as slowly guiding the latent energy in the boy to be put to better use in his new appendage. He had not expected that at all, and it was a little displeasing to be weakened so. However, the boy had given no indication that he knew that there was another being in his head. He was sure the boy had heard him, but the boy did not seem to suspect that anything was amiss, that he was actually playing host to another soul._

_All the better for him._

_His host had much more mental strength than he had initially assumed due to his young age, and so it was for the best that his presence remained unknown at the moment. He had not bothered the boy shortly after acquiring his host, but now that the danger had largely passed, he had begun… scouting the boy’s subconscious as unobtrusively as possible. It made him realize that it would not be as easy as he had expected to gain control of his host in the state he was now. He could tell that the boy would not meekly relinquish control to him, but would likely fight tooth and nail like he had been doing when he wanted to protect that girl._

_A challenge, the boy would be. But that was all right. He enjoyed challenges. A stronger host who could take care of himself in sticky situations was also much more preferable to a weak one who could get killed easily, especially if he wasn’t able to gain control of the body in time to prevent certain death._

_At the same time, he could tell that he would be safe here, dwelling in the far recesses of the boy’s subconscious. Well, it would be very much safer than where he had been in that darkness before at least, that much was fairly obvious. All he had to do was to wait for the powers that the boy had siphoned from him to return. In the mean time, he could, and would, rest and try to recall his memories again. Then when the time was right, he would be claiming this body as his own to use._

_Rest. Now that he was out of that debilitating darkness, the pain had vanished and was swiftly replaced by fatigue. Bone-deep fatigue. He was not too far gone yet to realize the irony of it. He had no real body yet, after all. But he needed sleep now, and in a few moments, through no real conscious decision of his own, he had lost awareness of the space around him…_

_It would be a few months later before he would begin to really awake again._


	2. 01

It had been six months since Fortuna had almost been destroyed by the Savior. Life had gone on, but not without much difficulty. There had been deaths of innocent people and thus funerals to be held. For Nero himself, he and Kyrie had taken some time before coming to terms with Credo’s death. It had not been easy, and they had initially buried themselves with all sorts of work to take their minds off it. Nero and most of the men had taken part in the rebuilding process, while Kyrie and the women had busied themselves cooking scrumptious meals for the rest.

However, running away from the problem did not solve it, nor did they really expect it to. It finally took a day when they were both tired and their safety barriers had been worn down from the day’s work to make them face the fact that Credo was _dead_ , and they had to move on with their lives by accepting that fact. It wasn’t easy, but it had been done.

A lot of rebuilding had taken place to repair the damage wrought on that fateful day. On some days, it had seemed near impossible to restore Fortuna City to her former glory. Eventually, the destroyed buildings had been repaired and so had the church. The remaining members of the Order of the Sword had regrouped and were now dedicated to the extermination of demons and the protection of the citizens of Fortuna under a new leadership.

Nero had actually been nominated for that post by several members, but he had rejected the nomination straightaway. He was not leadership material for such an organization as far as he was concerned. He would remain a member of the Order, but only if they let him work as he used to, which was largely alone. He could agree to being a leader of a small group, but not the entire Order. The other members had eventually, albeit reluctantly, relented to that request, to Nero’s great satisfaction.

In light of the events six months prior, the Order, as well as the citizens of Fortuna, had been enlightened to the fact that their esteemed high priest, Sanctus, had gone corrupt, but their faith in Sparda, it seemed, had not wavered. Nero personally felt that it was a good thing. The city didn’t need more trouble at its current stage of recovery stemming from a religious revolution. There was already enough to do with the final rebuilding works and the still frequent demon manifestations in various locations all over the city. The larger Hellgates had been sealed by Dante six months back, but there were still plenty of smaller, less obvious ones around where demons were still able to pass through. It was the Order’s job to handle such manifestations as well as maintain the general law and order of Fortuna City.

So Nero had gone back to doing what he did best – fighting and killing demons. It was a satisfying occupation. As much as he would never wish the almost-disaster of Savior on Fortuna again, looking back at it now, he had to admit that it had given him one of the most exhilarating times of his life. Except for the part where he thought he was going to lose Kyrie. Again. Comparatively, life in Fortuna now was almost veering towards total, utter boredom. In his mind anyway.

Much as he would not like to admit it, he was also sort of missing Dante’s presence. With the elder hunter around, there was at least someone to spar with, be it verbally or physically. Regardless of the fact that Dante probably still could hand him his ass, it was at least a lot more of a challenge than the mediocre demons he faced on an almost daily basis.

However, Nero was happy with the way things had turned out. He was even getting used to how the other members of the Order seemed to be treating him with more respect than he used to gain. Not that he went out of his way to do that, but being the one who’d destroyed Savior… Well, it left an impression to say the least. Still he didn’t let that get into his head, preferring to go back to his usual role before that fateful day. He did his usual guard duties and offered to take over for those who called in sick or had sudden urgent matters to attend to. Things he used to do, though not as regularly as he was doing now, before he suddenly became a hero in everyone’s eyes.

* * *

Patty wasn’t upset. She certainly _wasn’t_. She was just not happy, but “not happy” didn’t mean _un_ happy. The reason for her not happiness had to do with a certain half-demon hunter who had _yet again_ broken his promise to take her shopping today, and for no good reason. It was what? Only the _fiftieth_ time that it had happened. She could still clearly recall her conversation with Trish on the phone earlier, and it annoyed her to no end.

 _“Devil May Cry. How can I help you?”_

 _“Trish, this is Patty. Do you know where Dante is?”_

 _“Dante? He’s still asleep.”_

 _“ **Asleep?!** At this time of the day? It’s almost the afternoon!” Patty exclaimed in disbelief._

 _“Unfortunately, that can happen from time to time. He was out late last night.”_

 _“On a job?” a sympathetic note entered Patty’s voice. She could understand if Dante was tired from a demon hunting mission. She wouldn’t even blame him for-_

 _“No. He went out to a pub, I believe.”_

 _“A pub.”_

 _It appeared that Trish could hear the slight anger in her voice, for the other lady’s tone changed as she said, “Patty? Did Dante promise you something? I can go wake him up right now.”_

 _“No, it’s okay. Thanks Trish, see you.” Then she hung up before Trish could say anything else._

A _pub_. She huffed. Well, she could just go shopping on her own and bill everything to him. Hah! See what he could do about that! Just as she was about to leave her room, from her window, she saw a familiar motorbike pull up in front of her doorstep. An equally familiar woman was on it. Patty smiled, running down to open to door. She called out to the woman.

“Lady!”

“Hi Patty,” she returned, glancing at the younger girl’s attire. “Going off somewhere?”

“Dante was supposed to go shopping with me.” There was a short pause. “Well, you can see what became of _that_.”

“Do you still want to go shopping? Or can I entice you with a road trip?”

A road trip? That sounded fun, and she hadn’t been anywhere else in a long time. “Where to?”

“Fortuna.”

“Isn’t that where Trish and Dante went the last time?”

“Yes. Haven’t you said that you wanted to travel to places where Dante’s been to?”

“Yeah!” she agreed enthusiastically before having a somewhat sobering thought. “But Fortuna’s still demon-infested, right? Dante would be worried…”

Lady’s bi-colored eyes twinkled in mischief as her lips curled in a sly smile. “Ah, but wouldn’t that be the point?”

Catching her meaning, Patty smiled and her eyes lit up. “You’re right!”

A few hours later, the duo had arrived in Fortuna City. Patty was busy taking in the foreign sights and Lady indulged the girl by slowing down her speed. Lady had wanted to visit Fortuna ever since she heard about what had gone down on the island. She was particularly interested to meet the boy that Dante had entrusted Yamato to (she couldn’t believe it when she’d heard that, neither could Trish for the matter although the other woman had accepted it soon enough), but a couple of jobs had come by and she had to deal with them first.

Swinging by Patty’s was a sudden inspiration; she could’ve gone alone just fine. Still, she wasn’t too worried about bringing Patty into a demon hotspot. The girl knew how to defend herself, having learnt self-defense skills from both Trish and herself secretly. Besides, Fortuna had an efficient system of hunters, although they gave themselves another name. Knights, but whatever. If all else failed, there was still Lady herself and she’d fought demons while having to take care of an entire town’s population before. Protecting one girl was a piece of cake.

“Lady, why did you want to come here?” Patty asked.

“There’s someone I want to see.”

“A friend?”

“No. But Dante knows him. You might’ve heard him or Trish mention someone called Nero.”

“Nero? I think I’ve heard Trish mention him. He’s another demon hunter right?”

“That’s right. He sounded like an interesting person, so I decided to see him for myself.”

Lady didn’t think Patty knew a lot about Dante’s history, and she didn’t think Dante would appreciate it if she said anything to the girl without his consent, so she just kept it at that. Besides, it wasn’t a complete lie that she found Nero interesting merely on the basis that the younger hunter now had Yamato. There had to be _something_ about the boy that would make Dante let him keep a sword such as Yamato.

Since it was already late evening, Lady put off going to find Nero to the next day. When the day came, Patty wanted to follow her to meet Nero and Lady let her, seeing nothing wrong with that. Lady asked the locals where they could find Nero and were directed to a church. It was also the headquarters of Fortuna’s group of hunters. There, they learnt that Nero was out on patrol. Deciding not to wait in the church, the duo went exploring and ended up at the port. It was there where they were attacked.

A demon had sneaked up behind Patty, but her instincts saved her from the first attack. Immediately, more demons appeared and Lady got down to business, killing the first demon that had attacked Patty. Patty stayed out of the way as far as possible, which was quite easy since most of the demons were now more interested in Lady than her. Then, out of nowhere, a huge demon burst out of the waters in front of her, poised to attack. She was preparing to defend herself until Lady could turn her attention to this demon when something flashed before her and the demon was cleaved cleanly into two.

The short silver hair of her savior reminded her of Dante. But Dante did not use such a sword, nor did he wear such a coat. Besides, she didn’t think that Dante had found out about her trip to Fortuna yet. So who was this person? He then turned to look at her, and she was a little stunned by his features. It wasn’t just because she found him hot; he bore a distinct resemblance to Dante. Right down to the cerulean eyes.

“Get away from here,” he instructed her quickly, but not unkindly, before turning back and going to deal with the rest of the demons.

Lady had noticed the arrival of the newcomer. She was, unfortunately, currently a little too occupied to be able to look at the person clearly. The striking silver hair and that unusual right arm, however, let her know that it was Nero. What luck! The demons were dying at a faster rate with his arrival, and the remaining ones had largely turned their attention to him.

Lady would normally be insulted that the demons felt that a man was a bigger threat than her, but she let it slide this time, using the chance to observe Nero. He was still moving a bit too fast for her to clearly see his face, but the way he handled the demons was rather like Dante’s brand of fighting – flashy. But unlike Dante when he was around Nero’s age, Nero didn’t act as rashly as the other devil hunter, although Lady would be hard pressed to say that Nero was appropriately cautious when he fought.

Soon enough, there were only a few demons left which were taken care of swiftly by Nero. Lady fired a single shot, killing the last one that had managed to creep up behind Nero. She was quite sure that Nero would be able to get to that last one, but her shot served the purpose of drawing his attention to her. She studied his face. The resemblance… She gave him a nod of acknowledgement before calling out to Patty. It was time to leave. She had seen what she’d needed to.

* * *

As Nero left the now-deserted port, he couldn’t help but wonder about the two females he’d met there. Both of them were not from Fortuna; their dressing (short shorts, not to mention a plunging neckline from one of them) was telling and sure to get disproving remarks from the elderly and the more conservative of Fortuna’s population. The younger blonde had handled herself really well in the face of the demons’ attack. He’d expected a girl of her age to be terrified, and he wondered if it weren’t the first time she’d encountered demons. The other one, however, had surprised him more.

She was clearly a huntress, and a seasoned one too. He’d been a little awed at her arsenal and skill; her acrobatic gunplay had been quite mesmerizing to watch whenever he’d caught glimpses of her as he was fighting. Yet he could tell that she had been somehow assessing him, especially towards the end of the whole encounter, and he didn’t know why.

Deciding that it was nothing of real concern, he put the incident mostly out of his mind. It was interesting, and he’d share it with Kyrie, but there was nothing to be worried about. Now, it was finally the end of his 12-hour patrol. He was eager to go back home to eat Kyrie’s specially prepared lunch (good lord, the girl could _cook!_ ) and then take a well-deserved, and necessary, nap. He still had to cover part of the evening shift for an ill colleague after all.


	3. 02

Dante lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was probably time for him to get up; it was running late even by his usual standards. However… That feeling was back; it had been building steadily for days already. Something was about to happen and the gears were already in motion. He couldn’t tell if it was going to be a good or bad thing. The last time he had had this sort of ‘feeling’ so strongly was almost eleven years ago, and it had ended badly. Most definitely.

Sure, the world had been saved. Only… he had lost a part of himself to Hell.

He didn’t like thinking about the past. But once he started down that road, it was hard for him to stop. Which was why he rarely dwelt on it. Or at least he tried to. Hell knew that he regularly went down memory lane when certain dates rolled by each year at the very least. Dante closed his eyes then, as his personal demons came to haunt him again…

 _He and Vergil were playing tag and their laughter rang throughout their backyard. It was their ninth birthday and they were really looking forward to it. Mother had promised something special for them and they were both looking forward to it._

 _“Vergil, Dante! Happy birthday!” Eva said as she came out of the backdoor, holding a tray filled with homemade cupcakes and ice cream in various flavors._

 _“Wow!” Vergil exclaimed in delight. At the same time, Dante cried out happily, “Cool!”_

 _“I want chocolate!”_

 _“No, I want chocolate!”_

 _And Eva laughed in merriment as she watched her dearest sons fight each other to claim their favorite chocolate cupcakes._

 _…_

 _“Vergil, Dante, listen carefully to me. When I tell you to run, run. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, the two of you must run away from the house. Do not stop or look back. You **must not** be caught. Do you understand me?”_

 _“Yes Mother,” they chorused, albeit both of them were reluctant._

 _They could feel the evil closing in on their home. Dante was trying not to feel scared even as he clutched Rebellion tightly in his clammy hands. He was almost a teenager now; he shouldn’t be scared of such things. He looked at Vergil and he could see the thin sheen of sweat on his elder twin’s forehead although Vergil’s expression was quite calm. Vergil also had a death grip on Yamato; his knuckles were a stark white. It made him feel just a little better that Vergil was also feeling fearful even if he was probably doing a better job of hiding it._

 _At the moment the evil aura roared to greater levels, their mother cried out, “Now! Go Vergil, Dante!”_

 _Obeying her command, they turned and ran. They heard the front door being battered down and the shriek of inhuman voices as the wards singed and killed some of them. Then they felt the reverberation of splintered magic as the wards were broken through sheer brute force. Gunshots rang out and still they kept running. Dante fought the urge to look back and he could feel that Vergil was struggling to heed Mother’s words too._

 _“Vergil… I-”_

“DANTE! Open the damn door _right now_ , before I break it down!” Trish’s voice broke through his reminiscence.

Noting _that_ particular tone in Trish’s voice, he hurried to comply. He really didn’t need repair bills on top of his current strange feeling that something (possibly bad) was going to happen. “What’s wrong, Trish?”

Trish glared at him. “Patty’s missing. Morrison just called to say she hasn’t been home since last night, and he doesn’t know when she left either.”

“Missing?” Dante repeated, not quite processing what Trish was saying in his shock.

“Yes, and _you_ have something to do with it. What promise to Patty did you break yesterday?”

Promise…? Then realization dawned on him. “…Shit. I was supposed to go shopping with her.”

“So that’s why she called yesterday,” Trish murmured, partly to herself.

“What? She called? Why didn’t you tell me?” Dante exclaimed. He hated breaking promises, especially to Patty. She always knew how to make him pay for it. Literally.

“I was going to, but soon after she hung up, a call for a job came and you left to take care of it. Then when you returned at an unearthly hour, you went straight to bed. Patty told me not to wake you when I offered, so I thought it wasn’t that important. Plus, I had no idea _this_ would happen!”

Although Trish sounded like she was putting the blame solely on Dante, a good portion of her anger was directed at herself. She should’ve told Dante about Patty’s call when she informed him of the job.

Dante cursed. He hadn’t meant to forget his promise to Patty this time. Hell knew, he forgot quite a bit of them, sometimes even deliberately when he didn’t want to be dragged around various girly shops. But this time, that feeling had been getting to him so much that he’d gone drinking in hopes of getting his mind off it. Well, it hadn’t really worked, but it _did_ make him forget about meeting Patty.

Damn it. Patty had to be really upset. He hoped she hadn’t done anything stupid because of him breaking a promise. He knew she was rational and intelligent, but even the simplest, most innocent of things could turn disastrous easily. He hoped nothing of that sort had happened to Patty. He’d never forgive himself if that were the case.

“I’m going to look for her. Give me a second to change.”

It was at that moment when they heard the door to Devil May Cry open and Lady’s voice rang out from below. “Dante! Trish! Is there nobody here today?”

Trish immediately started down the stairs, while Dante made quick work of dressing. Demonic speed was a real asset at times. When Trish reached the office area, she was about to ask Lady if she had heard anything from Patty when she caught sight of a familiar head of long, blonde hair partially blocked by Lady. It was definitely Patty.

“Patty! Where have you been? Morrison called to say you were missing since last night!”

“I went out with Lady on a road trip. Sorry for making you worry, Trish.”

Dante heard all of the conversation with his enhanced hearing, even before he had reached the staircase. Relief that Patty was all right mingled with his growing anger as he absorbed everything that was being said. Between dragging him to yet another shopping trip and traipsing carelessly into demon hotspots, that girl was seriously going to be the death of him one day, one way or another.

 _‘Death by Patty.’_ That was going to look _real_ manly on his tombstone.

Descending the stairs with his demonic speed, he stopped at the landing with crossed arms to ask in a deceptively mild tone, “And what about me, little lady?”

Patty turned to look at Dante, not the least bit of guilt in her expression. “You were worried, Dante? I really didn’t know.”

“Damn it, Patty! I know this is some new way of yours to get back at me for forgetting to go shopping with you yesterday. I don’t care if you’re angry with me; next time, just charge all your bills to me. I’d prefer that over your disappearance, even if you’re with Lady.”

Belatedly registering _that_ particular fact, Dante immediately rounded on Lady. This time, his anger was a lot more palpable. “Lady, what’s the meaning of taking off with Patty without letting anyone else know?”

“You could’ve at least informed me too,” Trish added, feeling just a bit miffed that Lady had chosen not to tell her anything. She was all for punishing Dante a little, but she did not appreciate being left to worry like that when she hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

“Sorry Trish, it was an impromptu decision to take Patty along with me. Next time, I’ll definitely let you know,” Lady said. Then she turned to Dante, “It was Patty’s decision not to inform you. I merely decided to honor it. Besides, she’s safe enough with me.”

“The only places you go to, Lady, tend to be related to your job unless you’re taking a really rare holiday. Which, we have gone over this _many times_ , only puts Patty in unnecessary danger. So stop killing me with the suspense and tell me where you brought her to now.” Dante didn’t know if it was that unshakeable feeling of something looming on the horizon that was making him _this_ antsy, but he already knew that he wasn’t going to like Lady’s answer.

“Fortuna. I wanted to see Nero for myself.”

Dante almost didn’t catch the second half of Lady’s reply at the first word that came out of the huntress’ mouth. But although he did, it did little to change his response. He fairly exploded with anger and disbelief at Lady’s audacity to bring Patty into Fortuna, a known active demon hotspot even after the major cleansing the city had gone through six months back. Even so, a small part of him knew he was acting way out of character. But he just couldn’t stop himself.

“FORTUNA?!” he bellowed. “Have you lost it? You brought Patty into a demon hotspot _knowingly_ , just so you could _see the kid?_ Couldn’t you have done it _alone?_ What if you met with a dangerous situation? And if you tell me you went along with Patty’s scheme to give me payback, so help me-”

“Stop it, Dante! _I_ wanted to go to Fortuna, and I know it’s a demon hotspot. You don’t have to yell at Lady for that!” Patty demanded crossly. What was Dante’s problem? It was so unlike the normal silver-haired hunter she knew.

It was Lady who voiced out Patty’s thoughts and none too gently too. “Dante, what crawled up your ass and died? I can protect Patty perfectly well, and you know it. So maybe I should’ve told you, but what’s the big deal about insinuating that I can’t protect her?” Lady was feeling quite insulted, and it showed.

Surprisingly enough to the three females, Dante suddenly looked very tired and defeated. He left his post at the landing and made his way to his office chair where he pretty much collapsed onto it gracelessly. He took a deep breath and let it out before replying. “I wasn’t trying to insult you, Lady. It’s just that… since a few days ago, there’s this feeling plaguing me. Something is going to happen soon, and I can’t tell whether it’s going to be a good thing happening or a bad one. It’s why I forgot about my promise to you, Patty.”

He took another breath before admitting the one thing that he had not really wanted to deal with in front of Patty, but it was crucial for Lady and Trish to understand his current behavior. “The worst thing is… the last time I had a similar feeling… that was _eleven years ago_.”

True enough, the two older ladies caught Dante’s meaning immediately. Patty was confused, but she knew from the expressions on Lady and Trish’s faces that it was a significant thing for Dante. Lady understood why Dante had railed at her for something, had it happened during another time when Dante wasn’t in such a mood, which was considered a not-so-severe “transgression”. She was still a little peeved, but that was of a minor concern at the moment. Especially if Dante’s feeling was correctly interpreted.

“You think that something related to…” Trish started to ask, but noticing Patty’s presence as well as Dante’s warning expression, omitted the name that she had been about to utter. “…is going to happen?”

Dante shrugged. “I really don’t know. But it’s killing me, this feeling. Probably why I haven’t been feeling like myself these few days.”

“You should’ve told us about it earlier. Even if it’s just a feeling,” Lady said.

“I guess,” he conceded. “Though I was hoping it would go away or that I would be wrong about it. Well, running away never helped me when it came down to…”

“Okay, Dante. I get that something big might be happening and you all don’t want to let me know about what it is,” Patty interrupted.

She was a little tired of standing there and not understanding what was going on. Not to mention she really wished they wouldn’t treat her with kiddy gloves when it came to demons. She’d been associating with them for years now. She was more than a little used to hearing about various demons.

“I won’t run off again, even if Lady or Trish is with me. Okay? Although, Fortuna’s a really beautiful place! I’d really wish to go back there again… I’ve yet to thank Nero too.”

“Thank Nero?” Blue eyes narrowed at her suspiciously. “For what?”

She realized then that she’d said something that she shouldn’t have. At least, not right at this moment. But lying to Dante was just going to make things worse, so she bit the bullet as it was.

“Well… there was a demon attack and Nero came to my rescue, though I only learnt that it was him after the incident when Lady told me…”

Dante stared at the girl for a moment. Then he spoke, more calmly than any of them expected though it was still clear that he was not pleased at this latest development, “A _demon attack_. What were you doing in a place where there could be a demon attack? I know Fortuna, despite still being labeled as a hotspot, has _safe places_ where one is less likely to be attacked by a horde of demons.”

Lady decided to step in, since suggesting to check out the port had been her idea, not Patty’s. The younger girl had been quite content with being in the shopping district. “I suggested it. Since I was looking for Nero, I thought it was a good idea to check out places where the Knights would patrol more often. I was also confident that Patty could defend herself.”

“Defend herself? Patty’s not _you_ , Lady.”

“Trish and Lady taught me some self-defense moves!” the girl interjected, a little miffed that Dante had dismissed her in such a way.

Dante raised an eyebrow at that. “Against demons? And when did you two teach Patty self-defense? Why wasn’t I told _anything_ about that?” He cast an accusatory glare at Trish since she was the one most often around him.

Trish shrugged. “It didn’t seem important to let you know at the time. Besides, shouldn’t you be happy that Patty can hold her own well enough to get to safety?”

“If she got to safety, as you said, in Fortuna, how would she have met Nero? I didn’t get the impression that Patty meant she got a passing glance of the kid as he ran past her or something.”

“Okay! So I didn’t get away from the area. But I was safe!”

It seemed as if Dante was going to give Patty another scolding again but Trish quickly interrupted. “If you really do want to keep her safe, then shouldn’t you apprise her about your current worries? She needs to know who the possible enemy is if she’s to stay out of harm’s way.”

“No,” Dante started to protest.

“Trish is right. You can’t expect Patty to be safe if she doesn’t know about any of the powerful demons that might be headed our way,” Lady added to back up Trish. “Especially since you seem to strongly suspect the identity of this one.”

He sighed, knowing that the two women were right. Keeping Patty in the dark wasn’t going to help matters. She might not even know she was in danger until she walked in on it, and Hell knew Patty loved to defy his orders just for the heck of it. So explaining to the girl just why she should listen to him and stay out of trouble would be his best bet.

Except he really _hated_ to go over that part of his history again. With Nero, it had been quite simple. He had only wanted Yamato back and didn’t need to go into detail with the kid about his elder brother. He also doubted that Nero would’ve wanted to know about those details at that point in time. The kid had been _very concerned_ with giving chase after the demons that had gotten a hold of Kyrie. Knowing Patty, and most women in general, she’d want all the details. Not that he would give them _all_ , but it would have to be more detailed than he would’ve liked in any case.

“Fine,” he sighed. Might as well start with the most important fact – how to recognize the threat. Easy enough, since said threat looked exactly like him, albeit with a different hairstyle. With luck, Vergil would still be in his signature blue.

“I have an elder twin brother.”

“A twin brother? Really?” Patty exclaimed in excitement. This new tidbit of information from Dante made her forget the seriousness of the conversation. Her mind immediately filled with a lot of questions, all of which she asked Dante as soon as they appeared.

“What’s his name? Is he like you in personality? Where is he now? Oh, and why did all of you keep him a secret?”

 _Vergil. No. Last I checked, dead but with him you really never know. Because he’s likely to be insane and bloodthirsty? And I need to preserve my sanity without dwelling on the past too often?_ Dante thought to himself, but couldn’t bring himself to answer her yet.

Patty’s questions were innocent, probably too innocent given that it was Vergil they were talking about. But she didn’t know Vergil, and was probably basing her current mental image of Vergil on Dante. He sensed the slight displeasure in her last question, which was also the question that hurt him most. It wasn’t as if he _wanted_ to keep Vergil a secret, but with all the things he did that even _he_ couldn’t understand and forgive… Dante didn’t expect anyone else to. And it made life a lot easier if he could leave the past back where it belonged.

“His name is Vergil… and he’s nothing like me, and I really, _really_ stress that point, except for how he looks. Though usually, he wears a different hairstyle. I’ve never mentioned him before because… I thought he was dead. Now, I’m not so sure. The most important thing you need to know, though, is that Vergil… is most likely evil. He fell into Hell eleven years ago, and seven years ago, I killed him – though I didn’t know it was him until afterwards – in the process of saving the world from a Devil King whom he was working for.”

“Oh… I… I’m so sorry, Dante.” Whatever she had expected to hear about Dante’s twin, it certainly wasn’t that. Dante had had to kill his own twin? Oh gosh. Her questions must have hurt him and she really regretted how she forgot about the nature of their conversation.

“Don’t worry about it, Patty.” He gave her a gentle smile of reassurance (which made Patty feel even worse about herself) before continuing. “The thing is, I don’t know if Vergil really died back then. I thought he did, but then I thought he was dead after he stayed in Hell four years before. Turns out he wasn’t. So now, I have the same feeling I had eleven years ago, just before Vergil caused a great deal of havoc in the process of raising Temen-Ni-Gru to open the portal.

I just can’t decide if it’s because Vergil’s coming back or something else, something equally big and bad is going to happen. Which is why I’m so uncharacteristically cranky and flipped out on you for going to Fortuna. If there’s any place that is still vulnerable to a major demon invasion, it’s Fortuna. The number of Hell Gates that had been opened there even without considering the original Hell Gate means that the seal between Hell and the human world is especially weak in Fortuna.”

“I understand, Dante. I won’t disappear without telling you again,” Patty said sincerely.

“Not only that, Patty. If a threat really should arise, you _have to_ listen to what I tell you to do and follow it to the letter. Okay?”

She nodded.

“Alright then, ladies,” he addressed the two huntresses. “I guess we’ll only know what’ll happen when it happens, but just keep your eyes and ears open for anything or anyone that might come along. We might get an unexpected visitor or two.”

Little did Dante know that his predictions were about to really come true.

* * *

It was that dream again. However, knowing that he was dreaming didn’t mean that he could stop the dream from progressing. It was quite frustrating, as it was disturbing, especially since Nero didn’t understand why he kept having this recurring dream…

 _He was alone in a dimly lit library, searching for a book. There wasn’t a specific title that he was looking for, however. He just knew that what he needed was in the lore about Sparda. He had been through many of them already, and none of those had given him what he sought. As he picked up another book that looked promising (‘Never judge a book by its cover’, he reminded himself yet again), he heard the sound of another person entering._

 _As his eyes skimmed through the ancient text, he was keenly aware of every movement of the human in the library. It never paid to have his guard down. The man was slowly, but surely approaching him and making no moves to disguise his intent. Perhaps “man” would be pushing it, he decided absently. There was something distinctly off about the person, but he was not a demon. Not even really half of one._

 _“So, you’re looking for the book of ancient legends, the tale of the Demon Warrior Sparda?”_

 _He snapped the book he was looking at shut, having just determined that it was yet again, another useless book. “That’s not what I’m looking for. Leave me!”_

 _The mention of Sparda made his hackles rise unpleasantly. What did a human know about Sparda?_

 _“Then what **are** you looking for?” the man pressed on. “A demon that impregnates a woman, who then bears twin sons… That’s the story, isn’t it?”_

 _Yamato whipped out, lightning quick, of its sheath, the tip of the blade stopping just before the man’s neck. “Leave me. I won’t tell you a third time.”_

 _But the man did not leave. Instead, surprisingly enough, he lifted his thumb to press against Yamato’s sharp blade and started forward towards him. Blade cut into flesh and blood dripped onto the floor._

 _“People inherently fear evil, however…” the man said. “Occasionally, a person may become seduced by evil.”_

 _“What are you getting at?” he demanded, slightly annoyed now. Although, he had to admit, it was getting slightly interesting now too._

 _The man bowed his head, as if in a show of respect. “Share with me. The story of Spada…”_

 _He spared the human another look. Then with a silent command in his actions, he turned and walked away, knowing that the foolish human would follow._


	4. 03

“Nero, are you okay? You look a little pale,” came Kyrie’s concerned voice as he entered the kitchen in the morning.

He suppressed a yawn before answering, “I’m fine, Kyrie. Just had that dream again.”

Nero had shared the dream with Kyrie after the third time he’d had it in two weeks. That had been about a month ago. Neither of them could fathom a reason for the dreams, although Kyrie had suggested that it could be because of the incident with the Order. Perhaps his subconscious still had questions regarding Sparda, she had said. Nero was inclined to agree, as it was the most logical explanation, though it had already been half a year since then. The frequency of the dreams was getting ridiculous too. It was invading his sleep almost daily now! Besides, he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t quite so simple.

Other than the dream sequence that he had told Kyrie about, he was getting flashes of other disconnected scenes in his dreams too. He had different ones every night, and sometimes he would awake in the middle of the night after seeing some of them.

Pelting rain. Swords clashing. Flashes of red and blue. The sensation of a long fall into darkness…

To top it all off, the voice that he hadn’t heard since soon after getting Yamato had come back with a vengeance, except it no longer clamored for power, at least not always. It called persistently for revenge now. Nero had no clue what that revenge was about and the voice never said anything more than that. It was as confusing as it was annoying, but he dare not tell Kyrie. She was fine with him being part demon and a freaky-looking right arm, but he didn’t want her to know about the voice in his head.

At the same time, his gut feeling was also telling him that Dante might know something about the dreams, which seemed more and more like snapshots of someone’s memory to Nero. But Nero wasn’t too inclined to bother the elder hunter if he could help it. For all he knew, it was just something minor that he could deal with himself. As a result, Nero found himself taking a rare day off from the patrols around Fortuna and entering a section of the Order’s library that he’d hardly ever been to.

It was the section where all the books about Sparda were kept.

Normally, Nero never bothered to read the largely religious texts. What he knew of Sparda came from the church’s preaching sessions that he’d been made to attend since young. He would’ve skipped out on them all as he grew older, if not for Kyrie. Even so, he tended to doze off or daydream during those sessions. But because of his temper and aptitude for fighting, nobody commented about it to him even though he was sure they’d gossiped behind his back.

Basically, he knew minimal facts about Sparda (for the church’s preaching was filled with lavish praise for the Devil Knight and little else, explaining why he hadn’t heard of Sparda’s descendants until recently), but enough to know that the Devil Knight had a heart and was a savior of mankind. What he needed now was more facts, both about Sparda and his swords.

Especially the Yamato.

At first glance, Yamato looked like any other normal, non-demonic sword. It was a sleek, Japanese katana, free of any of the Gothic-like ornamentations found on typical Devil Arms. The slender scabbard was simply designed, pure black without any runes gilded onto it. The sword hilt had a woven black-and-white diamond pattern with an oval-shaped guard.

It was almost plain-looking if not for the innate sense of elegance to the craft of the sword. Even so, its appearance was still incongruent to the real power of the sword; Yamato could rip apart the inter-dimensional fabric with a single slash and cause utter destruction to those unfortunate enough to be caught in its path.

Perhaps there was something about it that caused it to channel memories too?

Well, they’d better be memories or something that was logically explainable. He refused to even consider the possibility that he was losing his mind. He might take huge risks when he fought demons, such that some people might deem him crazy, but he was _not_ mentally unstable.

He started browsing through the shelves carefully, trying not to think of how much he seemed to be following in the footsteps of his recurring dream. Some people might think his dreams a foreshadowing, but he preferred to leave that kind of hocus pocus alone. He eventually amassed a reasonable stack of books that he had deemed were likely to contain the information he was looking for. Setting the books down on a nearby table, Nero settled down on the plush armchair and began to read the first book of the stack.

Three hours later, he had gone through the entire stack and was annoyed to realize that there really wasn’t much else he’d gained from reading. Perhaps the only “new” thing he’d learnt was that Dante’s brother was really his elder twin. No name was given too. There was, however, an interesting little article in one of the more recently published books that mentioned that there had been an attempt to open a portal to the demon world about eleven years ago. It seemed to imply that it was Dante’s brother who had wanted to do that and that it had been Dante who had prevented tragedy from befalling the human world.

Nero didn’t know anything about Dante’s brother, other than the fact that Yamato belonged to the man. Even that little tidbit of information had come from Dante and wasn’t even mentioned in any of the books. In fact, most of the readings about Sparda had neglected to mention that he had descendants. If there were, they were there like a little footnote, like there was nothing of importance. If the article was to be believed, then Dante had fought his twin brother and at the end of everything, his brother had mysteriously vanished.

The flashes of red and blue from his dreams appeared in the forefront of his mind again and he quickly banished them as an unpleasant tingle went down his spine. It seemed that if he wanted to know anything else about Sparda and his descendants, he would have to go to Dante himself. Luckily for Nero, he had made it a point to look up where Dante stayed and had even visited the hunter at the _Devil May Cry_ once. It appeared that he would have to make another trip there soon enough.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt if he put it off for a while more, right?

* * *

Lady sat in the café, idly stirring her latte as she waited for Trish to arrive. Her mind had been going a mile a minute since yesterday when Dante had revealed his worries to them. For some reason, her encounter with Nero also kept entering her thoughts. Somehow, her mind seemed to be telling her that the two incidents seemed to be connected. Perhaps it was merely because Nero bore a resemblance to Dante and almost assuredly had some Sparda blood in him, and she had just met the young man.

Or perhaps, she was really on to something, psychic she was not.

“Lady.” Trish had arrived, and took the seat across from her.

“Hi, Trish,” she greeted in reply.

She waited for the waitress to take Trish’s order and leave before getting straight down to business. Normally, she might’ve done a bit of small talk before bringing out the main subject, but today, she didn’t bother. “So, what do you think of Dante’s ‘feeling’?”

Trish thought about it for a short while. “I think that he’s most likely right. When it comes to his twin, Dante is rarely off the mark.”

 _Except for how Vergil seemed to have abandoned his humanity in the pursuit of demonic power_ , were the unsaid, but mutually understood, words.

As much as that fact might seem a huge blemish on Dante’s record with regards to his knowledge of Vergil’s psyche, both Lady and Trish knew better than to take it into consideration in this case. It _would_ be a point of contention of _titanic_ proportions if Dante had suddenly said that Vergil had turned over a new leaf and was coming to make friends with all of them. But if it were something more general, like Vergil would be involved in something on the horizon…

That was as good as the ironclad truth to Lady and Trish. It was something inexplicable to those who did not know Dante like they did, but to them, it was something they knew instinctively. And instinct had always served both huntresses well in their lives.

“Then that means, we really need to prepare for the worse,” Lady concluded. It was as she had expected.

“It might not directly involve Vergil. Perhaps something of his could turn up again.” Trish was a little more prepared to be optimistic. Or perhaps she just hoped that Dante could be spared having to face his twin brother in a battle to the death once again.

“He didn’t get a ‘feeling’ with Yamato until Nero retrieved it,” the other huntress pointed out reasonably. “I don’t think it’ll be like that anymore. Also, I’m sure what’s left of Vergil’s possessions is already with Dante, with the exception of Yamato.”

“Well, there is that blue coat…” Trish said deliberately in an innocently contemplating tone, secretly awaiting the reaction that Lady would surely give.

“Trish!”

The blonde huntress laughed. “I was joking, Lady. It does seem that Vergil may somehow reappear again. Sons of Sparda are hard to kill, after all.” They both should know.

“Even by one of their own,” Lady agreed.

There was a lull in the conversation as the waitress returned with Trish’s drink. When the waitress left, Trish picked up the conversation again. “Speaking of Nero, what did you think of him?”

“He resembles Dante’s younger self a lot. If Dante does have another relative out there, Nero definitely fits the bill. I didn’t talk to him, so I can’t say much else I suppose.” She paused. “But he has the Yamato…”

“Everything seems to be revolving around Yamato lately,” Trish commented, half amused but nonetheless agreeing with what she was saying. “Nero _is_ quite similar to Dante. I never could place it, and I still can’t, but in some manner, he reminds me of Vergil too.”

“Maybe it’s merely because of Yamato.”

“Maybe.”

Yet, the both of them had the nagging feeling that it wasn’t just so simple.

* * *

 _How long had it been since he had been conscious and could stay conscious out of his own free will? Too long. **Far too long.** But better late than never, and now he was close to full strength once again. Just a little longer, just a little more time and he would be able to regain the last remnants of his energy and powers. Then he could finally take over the body of his host._

 _This was not to say that he had slumbered since the day he had found his unknowing host. He had regained consciousness intermittently for brief periods of times. Mostly, they were when his host had been in danger. There was no way he would let his host die with him inside, so he had made sure that anything out of normal with his host would cause him to awake._

 _It was during one of those instances, probably the most dangerous of instances that the boy had ever gotten into, when he had awoken to sense the presence of his beloved sword, Yamato. Although it was in a broken state, he had known it was his sword instantly._

 _Perhaps “awoken” was too mild a word for that particular time. He had been **very** sharply jarred awake by the potent rush of adrenaline and fear from the boy. Nevertheless, his disorientation did not last long and he had been able to discern the situation quite clearly. His host was in danger of dying, which would not do at all. The boy had already been impaled by a sword, and was losing blood. He needed to enable the boy to fight back, and to do that he needed to stir up the still mostly latent powers the boy had._

 _Sometimes, he really **hated** slow learners._

 _So he had dredged up the memory of when he had first seen the boy, when he had been frantic in his desire to protect the girl, and thrust it to the forefront of the boy’s mind just as the three Bianco Angelos closed in._

 _It had the desired effect._

 _He felt the boy stirring again, his latent powers starting to rise as a blue glow emanated from his host. The world became tinged in a red haze as his host experienced the effects of triggering his devil. He let his own powers merge with the boy’s, sending out a homing call to Yamato. His sword did not fail him. The strong, demanding call of its master and the growing strength of a demonic aura with an energy signature unique to the Sparda bloodline made it begin restoring itself rapidly and completely. Then Yamato flew into the boy’s right arm, where the pulse of his power was the most intense._

 _With Yamato firmly in hand, the boy’s own powers finally broke out as he triggered and the powerful energy blast sent the three Bianco Angelos flying as they disintegrated into nothingness. He retreated then, though not really by his own volition. It always happened; the burst of energies he used to aid his host would always send him back into slumber. But this time, he somehow knew it would be different._

 _And he was right. With the comforting presence of Yamato nearby, his healing had sped up. He could remember things prior to finding a host, prior to the period of time he had been wandering in the darkness. More and more often, he found himself being able to awake of his own accord, even when his host was not in danger. Those instances lasted for short periods of times, mere seconds, at the very beginning. The times he stayed awake grew longer and longer as the days passed. However, true to his initial evaluation, his host was much stronger than normal for a boy his age. Even mentally._

 _It made stripping away the boy’s control of his body difficult. He would need to adopt a more subtle approach, such that the boy wouldn’t know what hit him until it was too late to stop it._

 _So he had started to integrate himself more firmly into his host’s subconscious. He explored his host’s memories, seeking to find his weaknesses. He took over the boy’s dream state, wanting to know how much he could control the boy’s subconscious. At first, he merely observed what the boy dreamt about. Then he attempted to direct the dreams subtly, making sure the direction they moved in wasn’t too out of normal for the boy. When he found that he could do that quite freely, he moved on to his next step, which was to control those dreams._

 _It was a rather risky move, but he gave the boy snippets of his own memories as dreams. It stood to reason that if his host began doubting his sanity or his identity, it would be easier for him to use the body for his own purposes. Additionally, the dreams were slowly, but surely, wearing away the boy’s energy. It wasn’t obvious, but he could feel it wane every single day since he started. It was, however, nothing that would make him suffer bad consequences during a fight; he wouldn’t endanger his host, **himself** , that way. Lastly, there was another possible benefit to this._

 _The boy had finally started looking up the stories of Sparda in an attempt to explain his dreams. It was a step in the direction that he had wanted the boy to take. But it wasn’t enough, and he was growing impatient. His host was stubborn. In that regard, he was reminded of **that man**._

 _And that wasn’t always a good thing._

 _He **needed** to up the pace, to speed things up. He had lost far too much time already, even if said time had been necessary. He wasn’t willing to wait any longer than it was absolutely necessary. His host had to look for that man sooner rather than later. He was going to make sure of that._

 _It was time the boy reconsidered his decision to visit Dante later rather than sooner._

 _  
_

* * *

_The rain fell in heavy, unrelenting torrents as lightning flashes lit up the ominous skies. Thunder punctuated the sound of rainfall like a harsh drummer’s beat. The moon was round and full, partially obscured by the dark clouds. But it still seemed much larger than what was normal and it cast an eerie, white glow._

 _Far below the heavens, on the rooftop of a tall, ancient tower, a heated, lethal battle was taking place, its participants oblivious to the dramatic display by Mother Nature. For they themselves were intimately engaged in a macabre dance of death._

 _Metal clashed with metal in strokes so swift, they were barely visible to the human eye. Red and blue blurs streaked across the stone roof, sometimes pushing close to the edge but always never falling off. The blood-red coat flashed out again, as its owner dodged a vicious slice that missed him by mere inches. He had gotten better, but there was no doubt that he would ultimately not be a match for him. Just like in the past._

 _He **always** won. It was just a matter of time._

 _For now, he would enjoy the thrill of the fight. It had been too long since he’d found a worthy opponent. Despite what he might say, this man never failed to give him that unique adrenaline rush he craved. After another flurry of hard, heavy blows and of him dodging or deflecting the bullets that his opponent managed to squeeze out, they were both standing some ways apart, panting for breath. The sound of their breathing was almost in harmony._

 _His red-coated opponent charged at him again, the sword tip dragging on the stone floor. The rough friction caused sparks to fly. In a blink of an eye, their blades were locked together again. But this time, his opponent was more forceful, almost knocking his katana out of his hands. He quickly regained his grip, using the move that was meant to disarm him to his advantage._

 _Holding onto the hilt of his katana, he rammed it hard against the other man’s solar plexus. With his strength and the unexpected move, his rival was sent flying backwards, hitting one of the stone pillars harshly. He watched his rival land on the ground on both feet, unfazed by the pain. The black gun was drawn and almost immediately, it started to fire round after round at him._

 _Spinning his katana in front of him, he skillfully gathered all the bullets that were aiming for a piece of him on his blade. Did he think that he would go down so easily to such **uncouth** weapons? He would learn not to underestimate him. As soon as he had all the bullets, he laid them on the ground in a perfect, straight line. Then with a perfectly executed flick, the bullets were ricocheting upwards and towards their owner._

 _As he’d expected, his rival didn’t so much as blink. Instead, he crouched low on the ground, eyes carefully watching the line of bullets. Then with a precise downward slash, the larger sword had cleaved the bullets clean in half and they exploded harmlessly on either side of the man._

 _“Why do you refuse to gain power?” he demanded then, as he cautiously watched the other man straighten up. “The power of our father, Sparda?”_

 _“Father?” the other snorted contemptuously. “I don’t have a father. I just don’t like you, that’s all.”_

 _With that, his opponent charged him yet again. Their swords clashed yet again, grinding against each other with unyielding force. Their blades screeched shrilly against each other as sparks formed where their blades connected. Neither of them would yield wiling; neither of them **wanted** to yield at all. But in the end, one of them did. The sleek katana flashed, sending the broader sword flying out of the other’s grip._

 _Then, with his renowned speed, he impaled his opponent straight through the chest just as the other sword landed tip-first into the stone. His satisfaction was palpable as warm, crimson blood splattered onto the cold stone floor…_

…

Nero jerked awake violently, the force of it causing him to actually sit up on his bed. He felt unusually cold even though he was covered in sweat and he could feel his heart pounding away like he’d just gone through several hundred demon clean-up jobs at one go. His Devil Bringer was glowing brightly, the kind of brightness that he associated with him being in battle. It had _never_ done that before whenever he’d just awoken, not even the times when he’d awoken from the nightmares of his time trapped in the Savior or those of losing Kyrie permanently. He looked at his right arm closely, and it was then that he realized that he was clutching something in his hand.

Yamato.

Why was Yamato manifested? He had _never_ manifested it in his sleep before. Not even when he was having dreams about fighting demons had he ever done something like that. Was he losing control of his Devil Bringer? It couldn’t be, right?

 _Dreams…_ Oh god, he’d just had another of those dreams that made no sense whatsoever. Only this time, it wasn’t that recurring dream about a library. It was a new one. No, it wasn’t really all that new to him, now that he thought about it. But it was the first time that he’d seen some semblance of logic to the flashes of some of the other dream scenes he’d seen before.

The last thing he remembered was of him running a sword through his opponent. What made his blood run cold, however, was the fact that he knew both the sword and his unfortunate rival.

The dream him had used _Yamato_ to coldly, mercilessly gut…

 _Dante._


	5. 04

Dante was lounging on his office chair, halfway into falling into a daydream (or perhaps a day-mare, considering his current circumstances) when he sensed a fast-approaching, wildly agitated devil aura approaching his office. It was only because the said aura was familiar to him that he didn’t ready his weapons.

Two seconds later, the doors to the _Devil May Cry_ burst open so forcefully, they were cleanly flung off their hinges.

“Well kid, didn’t expect you to show up here all of sudden,” Dante commented casually, as if Nero hadn’t just busted through the door. “You’ll have to pay for the repairs though,” he added, gesturing to the now-broken double doors.

“I need you to tell me about your family and Yamato,” was Nero’s non sequitur as he entered the office with large strides, only stopping when he was right in front of Dante’s office desk.

Dante had to prevent himself from blinking. “Hold on a second. Run that by me again.”

“Tell me, about your family _and_ Yamato.”

“Why do you want to know that from me? There’re books on that, right?”

“I’ve looked. But I can’t find all the information I need.”

“What do you need to know? Wait, before that, _why_ do you need to know?”

“Because- Damn it,” Nero cursed. His hands clenched tighter around the edge of the desk as he took a deep breath before continuing. “This will sound crazy.”

Dante raised an eyebrow. _Uh huh. Where have I heard this before?_

“Try me, kid.”

“I’ve been having strange dreams for awhile now. About searching for how to open a portal to Hell, about fighting and the last dream I had…”

Nero took in another breath to brace himself for what he was about to say. Recalling his dream, especially the very last part, still made him vaguely nauseous. He remembered, just before the shock of his dream woke him up, the dream him had _delighted_ in hurting Dante.

“…was about gutting you with Yamato in the rain at the top of some ancient tower.”

Nero did not notice that Dante had gone totally still and his face had become a blank, expressionless mask as he continued with his tale.

“Then there’s this voice in my head ever since I got the Devil Bringer. It used to want power, but since it stopped after I got Yamato, I didn’t think much about it. Now it’s back, and it’s calling for revenge. I think the dreams… are memories of that voice, so I need to know if it’s true. Seeing that Yamato belongs to your family, I thought that you might know something.”

Dante was silent for a long moment as he slowly processed the bombshell the kid had dropped on him. The kid probably had no real idea of what he’d gotten himself into this time, if what Dante thought the connotations of those events were right. And he didn’t like them a single bit.

Damn. Nero sure knew how to pick his troubles.

“Tell me how and when you got your Devil Bringer.”

“About a year ago, maybe a month or so before the Savior incident, Kyrie was attacked by demons on the streets. I was too far away to be able to reach her in time and in my panic, I started to want the power to save her. _Anything_ , as long as she didn’t die. The next thing I knew, a blue light engulfed my right arm and I had the Devil Bringer.”

A year ago… Six years after Mallet Island.

Why did old wounds love to return to haunt him so much?

“Okay, listen to me and try not to freak out too much. From what you’ve said, the dreams _are_ memories… My elder twin brother’s memories to be exact. The only reason that I can think of for you having them is that, somehow, his spirit is… inside of you. It’s likely that his presence caused you to obtain the Devil Bringer. My guess is that after you obtained Yamato, it started to wake him, and as that happens, you start seeing some of his memories as dreams.”

“…What’ll happen if he fully awakens?”

“Knowing Vergil, it’s not going to sweet, fluffy and harmless. Other than that, I don’t know what he might try. Since he disappeared on me… What? Fifteen years ago? I haven’t been able to figure him out anymore. That last dream-memory you had… That was our first heart-warming family reunion in four years.”

Nero was a little lost for words. He had figured that there was history between Dante and his brother, especially after the dream. But this… “Your family is…”

“…the epitome of dysfunctional. I know,” Dante sighed, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

Damn. He really hated complications! To be fair, he _was_ expecting something to pop up soon, considering his damned feeling. Although, he hadn’t thought that Nero would be dragged into this whole mess in such a way.

“You should stay here for the time being, just in case shit happens. I don’t think you’d want to accidentally harm your girl.”

“ _That_ was my strongest motivation to come find you. I’m not about to endanger Kyrie.”

“Aww… and here I was hoping that you had missed me.”

“Get over yourself,” Nero retorted with a roll of his eyes, although he had to fight hard against quirking up the corners of his lips. “By the way, where’s Trish?”

“Trish? She, Lady and Patty went out shopping.”

“Lady? Patty?”

“Lady’s another demon huntress, and yes, that is her name,” Dante elaborated. “You don’t want to mess with her, less she shoots you in the head. Patty’s a girl that I saved from demons a few years back.”

Just at this instant, the doors to the office came fully off their hinges as they were pushed aside by three females entering the Devil May Cry.

“Who’s asking about me and Patty?” Lady enquired.

“And who broke the doors, _again?_ ” Patty sighed. “Dante…”

“Nero, on both counts,” Dante immediately replied, not wanting to have Patty give him grief about how to properly use doors. Again. Besides, it _was_ true that he had nothing to do with the broken doors this time.

By this time, Nero had turned around to see the three females enter the office. To his surprise, he recognized all three of them. Trish, he already knew, and as for the other two… They were the two women that he’d seen back in Fortuna quite recently. Going by Dante’s description and his own memory of them, Lady had to be the black-haired huntress and Patty, the blond girl.

“Nero?” Patty asked curiously.

Then she finally saw that there was another man besides Dante in the room. It was the person who’d saved her from demons back in Fortuna. She smiled at him brightly.

“Oh, it’s you! Thank you for saving me back in Fortuna! I’m Patty!”

“No problem. Just doing my job.”

Lady, on the other hand, took her time in giving Nero a silent perusal again. Recalling her recent conversation with Trish, she had to say that she had the feeling that she was still sensing something – nothing she could concretely place – from Nero that reminded her of Vergil.

“So you must be Lady,” Nero said, as he turned to the other huntress. He was aware that she was studying him again, and was quite tempted to ask her why.

“Hello, Nero. So, is it a tiring job, cleaning out the demons in Fortuna?”

Dante chuckled slightly at Lady’s opening question. “Don’t mind her, kid, she’s always looking for more demons to kill. Especially if they come with a hefty reward fee.”

Lady calmly plucked out a gun and fired it at Dante without even looking. Already anticipating this, Dante merely tilted his head to the side and let the bullet shoot past its intended target. While he wouldn’t die from one bullet through his head, it still hurt like hell and he didn’t need to feel pain unnecessarily.

Nero stared at their exchange, utterly flabbergasted. Although, he definitely saw where Dante’s warning about Lady had come from now. There was also this gut feeling that it wasn’t the first time that Lady had shot Dante in the head, although it remained to be seen if she’d succeeded every time.

“Uh…?”

“Don’t worry, Nero. That’s how it usually is between them,” Trish reassured with a smile, even as she hid her own amusement at seeing other people’s reaction to Lady and Dante’s unconventional manner of bantering. Well, in a way, she was the pot calling the kettle black since she took potshots at Dante whenever he pissed her off too.

“Oh, right.”

Well, let it not be said that Dante didn’t live an interesting life.

Turning back to Nero, Lady commented shrewdly, “I’m getting a feeling that you being here isn’t coincidental. Is it?”

Dante cut in before Nero could say anything, turning serious instantly. “It isn’t. Ladies, it seems that my feelings are pretty accurate after all. Nero appears to have an unwanted visitor in his head – Vergil.”

There was complete, utter silence in the room as the three women tried to digest the information that Dante had unloaded onto them. Nero noted that neither Trish nor Lady seemed _too_ shocked. It was as if they had been forewarned something might happen soon. Then he recalled the words Dante used. What did that mean?

“Dante, what do you mean by “my feelings are pretty accurate after all”?” he asked.

“Well kid, I’ve been having this feeling, and there’s really no other way for me to explain it, for the past week or so. The last time I felt it was before Vergil activated Temen-Ni-Gru eleven years ago. So I figured that with this feeling, something big was going to happen soon and your appearance proves that I was right. Although, I didn’t expect it to involve Vergil being… _resurrected_ in a sense.”

“Okay, can we start from the beginning? How did Vergil end up inside Nero’s head?” Lady asked. She briefly wondered if this was the explanation to why she sometimes thought she saw Vergil in Nero.

So Nero explained to the three ladies how he got his Devil Bringer in the first place, and how Dante guessed that it was around that time when Vergil began to use him as a host. He then told them about the dreams he had been receiving recently. What he neglected to mention in detail, however, was the very last dream that he had. He didn’t think Dante would want that piece of history known in such a manner.

“So this means that we’ll have to keep an eye on Nero, doesn’t it?” Trish asserted. “We’ll need to watch out for signs of Vergil attempting to take over.”

“Isn’t there a way to prevent that from happening at all?” Lady asked.

While it had been a while back since the first and last time she’d met Vergil, she still clearly remembered the skillfulness of the other half-demon in battle. Plus, Vergil had literally been through Hell and he’d still returned. It clearly indicated that the half-demon had a very strong willpower. It would be best to stop him even before he could break free.

“There may be a way,” Trish agreed. She too knew that it was dangerous to allow Vergil to actually have a chance at taking over Nero’s body. “However, we’ll probably have to do research, and quickly too.”

“Knowing Vergil, he’ll be acting pretty soon. It’s already been a while since he started to show signs of awakening,” Dante added. “We don’t know if there’ll be enough time to find the method before Vergil decides to come visit. So we definitely have to keep a watch on Nero.”

“Gee… This sucks,” Nero muttered to himself, not liking the idea of being watched but knowing that there was no other choice.

In a louder voice, he asked, “This also depends on me, doesn’t it? Depends on how long I can hold him off?”

Dante eyed Nero critically before replying, “You’re stubborn, kid. Which is a good thing in this case. You’ll have to pit your will against Vergil’s, and I know for a fact that Vergil is pretty damned determined. You’ll have your work cut out for you, but even then…”

“I’m _not_ going to have someone else use me again,” Nero growled out, sensing that Dante had doubts about whether he could hold up against Vergil. “Once was fucking enough.”

Dante could say that he honestly admired Nero’s attitude. But against Vergil? Nero was still too green to survive against his elder twin, who could take vicious to a whole new level. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but he was almost sure that he’d have to face-off against Vergil again. This time, he would need to make sure he didn’t accidentally kill the kid. There was _no way_ he would let Nero become collateral damage.

It gave him a serious handicap, but when had his life ever been easy?

* * *

_He was dreaming again, and this time he knew it. Unlike the other times that he had dreamt, he was actually himself in this dream. Somehow, it just made him feel even more cautious. There was a certain quality to this dream that made him wary, as if something bad would happen any minute. And it wouldn’t be confined to the dreamscape._

_Nero looked around him. Everywhere was vast darkness and he was standing in a pool of water. Or rather, he was standing on top of a pool of water. Looking down at the water below his feet, his reflection stared back up at him. He blinked once, and his reflection changed, albeit only by a little._

_The eyes staring back at him now were still blue. But they were a lighter, icy blue color. The kind of blue that you would find on a merciless, Alaskan winter morning. He could literally **feel** the coldness coming from those eyes even though he knew this was just a dream. He looked carefully at his reflection, noticing that the features of his doppelganger were very slightly different from himself. The planes and angles of his reflection were sharper, more defined._

_Aristocratic._

_He had certainly never looked this way before. He shifted slightly in uncertainty, and the water rippled, momentarily blurring away his mirror image. When the surface smoothed out again, his reflection had changed again. The image was no longer wearing his blue and red coat. They had turned completely red and in a style that was actually recognizable to him. He had a startling realization that the man looked a lot like Dante now. Except that his eyes were all wrong._

_Too serious._

_Too… **cold**._

_There just wasn’t any way to escape that word with the person (it couldn’t be his reflection now) reflected in the water. While Dante wasn’t particularly **warm** per se, this frigid coldness was all wrong on the elder devil hunter’s face. It seemed to Nero that Dante’s imposter wasn’t even trying particularly hard to let him know that it wasn’t Dante he was looking at. Why?_

_Suddenly, the water rippled again and this time, Nero knew that he hadn’t moved. He watched guardedly as the water started to churn a little, and a figure started to rise from the water in front of him. When everything had settled down, he saw that the figure was the person that had been reflected moments ago. Complete with Dante’s guns and the Rebellion._

_“Who are you?” Nero asked._

_“You know me.”_

_“You’re not Dante.”_

_The man inclined his head slightly in a gesture that spoke nothing of his reply. “You know me. I will not repeat myself again.”_

_“I don’t know who you are. Stop impersonating Dante.”_

_“Is it unnerving you, boy?”_

_“No.” But to be honest, it was._

_The man raised an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving him. They continued to stare at each other. Somehow, the silence between them was turning more and more unsettling. Nero had the feeling that the other person was sizing him up, or at the very least assessing him on some level. Not liking that idea, he finally broke the silence._

_“Show me who you are. One Dante’s enough to get on my nerves; I don’t need **two** of you.”_

_That seemed to only succeed in making the man’s lips quirk slightly in a half-smirk, though his general demeanor was still as cold as ever. Damn, he was beginning to **really** get on Nero’s nerves. Plus, it was in a way that not even Dante had ever managed to accomplish. Nero hadn’t thought that that was even **possible** until this very moment._

_“Unfortunately, I cannot change how I look.”_

_“What do you mean that you-” he broke off abruptly as the realization hit him like a lightning bolt._

_This wasn’t Dante he was looking at. But it was somebody who **naturally** resembled Dante. He was looking at Dante’s twin._

_Vergil._

_Why the hell was he dreaming about Dante’s twin? And why did he have the chilling feeling that he really was seeing Vergil, and not some apparition that his over-wrought brain had cooked up?_

_At that moment, the man raised his right hand and smoothed his silver hair back into perfectly angled spikes. This new hairstyle was a much better fit to Vergil’s cold demeanor, Nero thought. At the same time, he had the disturbing feeling that it was how Vergil normally looked. Which made no sense as to how **he** would even know that, since he’d never met the elder Sparda twin and it wasn’t as if Dante had ever shown him pictures of the Sparda family during the times they’d met._

_“What do you want with me?” he demanded, glad that his unease with the situation wasn’t obvious in his voice._

_“Your body.”_

_“Uh, look here buddy, I’m not interested in men. Really.”_

_“You know that is not what I mean, boy. But I will make it clear to you now: I do not care for your preferences, especially if they go against mine.”_

_Yeah, Nero had figured that out. His prior comment had been sort of a reflex, to try to diffuse his own panic at the real implications of Vergil’s words. Oh yeah, he was seriously starting to panic. But he was damned if he was going to let Vergil know that._

_“Well, tough luck for you. I’m not just going to roll over like a good little puppy.”_

_“I’d expected nothing less. Stubbornness, while exasperating, can be a useful trait at times. It is why you have been able to live up until today.”_

_In a roundabout way, Nero supposed that he had just been complimented. “If you claim to know so much, then you know it’s a waste of time speaking to me.”_

_Vergil smirked, the expression sending another shiver of unease down Nero’s spine. “I don’t claim; I **know** a lot about you, boy. Things that you probably don’t even know about yourself, things that you haven’t even noticed about yourself. The question is: do **you** know anything about **me**?”_

_“…You’re Dante’s elder twin brother. Yamato belongs to you.”_

_“But that tells you nothing about me, does it? You didn’t even know of my existence inside of you until I decided to let you know. You don’t know a lot of things, boy.”_

_“Quit it with the ‘boy’! I’m not **that** much younger than you or Dante!” Nero snapped, hating the condescending tone the other half-devil was using. Not even Dante, who liked to call him “kid” to annoy him, had ever used such a tone with him._

_“You are but a child, boy. Perhaps it is not age-wise, but definitely so in your experiences. Let me show you just how weak you really are.”_

_With that ominous proclamation, Vergil manifested Yamato in his hand and rushed at Nero. Vergil’s coat rippled once, melting into a blue-colored one with intricate designs on the sleeves and lapels. Nero had only one second to register that change before he had to dodge Yamato’s swinging blade._

_Hell, Vergil was **fast** , probably even faster than Dante. And that really did not bode well for him. There wasn’t much doubt in Nero now that Vergil could hand him his ass way too easily. Then there was also the fact that Nero didn’t think it was really a dream now, which meant that his life could actually be on the line if he didn’t manage to beat Vergil._

_Well, there was still enough dreamlike quality here though. How else would Yamato be able to appear in Vergil’s hands? With that thought in mind, Nero tried to manifest Red Queen and Blue Rose. He was greatly relieved to find that it worked, and both of his trusted weapons were now with him. It was still going to be tough to defeat Vergil, but at least with his weapons, he’d stand a much better chance._

_He brought Red Queen up just in time to block a deadly strike from Yamato. The impact of blade on blade was jarring, and Nero swore he felt the reverberations down to his bones. He leapt backwards, hoping to use the short amount of time to find some way to get through Vergil’s defense._

_But before he could do so much as **think** , Vergil was in front of him again, as if the other man had teleported. Or did Vergil just possess such superior speed? It was an unsettling thought._

_“Do not get distracted, boy, or you will not last much longer.”_

_“Shut up!”_

_Vergil’s reaction to that was another strike using Yamato that Nero just barely managed to dodge. Nero knew that he was being kept on the defensive, and that wasn’t really a style that suited him at all. He was more used to charging into a battle and taking out his opponents before they could strike back. The times that he’d had to consciously be on the defensive were few and far between, and none of his opponents back then were like Vergil._

_“You can’t find an opening, can you?”_

_Nero narrowed his eyes and decided to just take a chance. He wouldn’t stand being talked down to by the other man anymore. He swung Red Queen to meet Yamato instead of merely parrying. At the same time, he struck out with his Devil Bringer, intending to grab a hold of Vergil._

_Just as the Devil Bringer was about to close around the other Sparda twin, Nero felt a sudden, but absolute paralysis seize him. Vergil’s form blurred before him again and then he found himself lying flat on the ground, his arms pinned by invisible restraints to the ground on each side of his head. Yamato had also run him through his abdomen. Vergil smirked down at him before cruelly driving Yamato even deeper into the wound. Nero choked as blood forced its way up his throat, but he couldn’t move to spit it out._

_Why couldn’t he move?_

_“You’re still far too young to survive a battle of wills with me, boy. I have already established myself within your subconscious. If I so choose to, I can subtly direct your will even when you are awake. In your dream realm, however, I can have absolute control over **you**.”_

_At that moment, he felt his paralysis let up a little. He could now move his neck and use his vocal chords. He knew that it was Vergil’s way of showing him that what he’d said about control was true, and it annoyed Nero although there was nothing he could do. But despite his annoyance, he was fearful of what this meant. If Vergil could control his subconscious, then he would be a danger to Dante and the rest, wouldn’t he?_

_“…Why… are you… doing… this…?” he asked, his throat feeling unusually sore from the momentary paralysis. “…Are you… planning… to do… something… to Dante…?”_

_“Now, why would I let you know that? It’s never wise to show your hand too early, boy. So even if you plan to run away to foolishly try to protect my brother…”_

_“ **I.** ”_

_Yamato dug deeper into his flesh and he barely choked back a pained moan._

_“ **Won’t.** ”_

_The blade shifted deliberately sawing downwards and widening the wound, inch by painful inch. A strangled cry escaped his lips._

_“ **Let.** ”_

_Yamato twisted inside of him with a sickening squelch and it felt like his nerve endings were on fire. Hellfire._

_“ **You.** ”_

_Nero screamed, and then all became blissfully black._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vergil knows Nero's name by now, but he's not using it for a reason.
> 
> [EDIT: 20/01/2013]
> 
> Made minor timeline changes in this chapter with regards to when Nero got his Devil Bringer after rewatching the cutscenes of DMC 4 and realising he wasn't that competent with his Devil Bringer when he first met Dante. But nothing else is really affected because of it.
> 
> [/EDIT]


	6. 05

When Dante caught sight of Nero on the third morning of the kid’s stay at the Devil May Cry, he knew that something was definitely up. There was a certain pallor to Nero’s face that had not been there the previous few days. In fact, he didn’t think he had ever seen Nero looking the way he was right now before.

Considering their current circumstances, he had better find out what was going on. Pronto.

“Hey, Nero. You don’t look too good.”

Well, that was the polite version of what he meant. Actually, Nero looked pretty much like he’d spent a few months in Hell, receiving the full force of the “warm and caring hospitality” that Hell served up to anyone unfortunate enough to get caught down there, and then some.

Nero glanced at Dante, and knew that he hadn’t been imagining things when he thought he looked like Hell warmed over in the bathroom mirror earlier. Last night’s dream had been freaky, to put it mildly. If he was going to be honest though, it downright _terrified_ him in a way that was similar to the time he had been trapped inside that freak of a moving stone statue. The manner that Vergil had dispatched him was frighteningly _easy_ , like Nero was a completely inexperienced _baby_ going up against a seasoned, immoral warrior.

Swallowing slightly, Nero decided to tell Dante about the dream. After all, it concerned the safety of many people.

“I… had another dream.”

“Another memory?”

“No… I… I think I actually _spoke_ to Vergil,” Nero said slowly. He let out a mirthless chuckle, “Well, it was probably more of him beating the hell out of me.”

Suddenly, Dante was in front of him, hands clutching his shoulders so tightly it was actually painful for his human arm. Nero just managed to suppress an instinctive flinch, that didn’t _entirely_ have anything to do with the pain from Dante’s strong grip. There was tension in the elder hunter’s posture and there was a clear strain in the other’s voice when he next spoke. Plus, Dante’s blue eyes were very, very serious now.

It almost reminded him of…

“What do you mean you spoke to Vergil? It really was him? Or was it just… just a dream?”

“I think that it really was him, and not my subconscious acting up.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He wouldn’t say much… All I know is that he wants to take over my body, and was out to prove to me… just how _weak_ I am against him. We fought, and I…”

Nero clenched his fists together. He hated admitting weakness, and there was something exceptionally jarring about admitting it to _Dante_ aloud. Especially since the day before he had so determinedly declared to Dante that he wouldn’t go down to Vergil. But after that dream, he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

“I lost to him. Badly. It’s like he’s on a whole different level. It’s like I’ve never even fought a day in my life before! Damn it!”

He badly wanted to punch something, to take out his frustration at his helplessness the night before. But considering that he already owned Dante for the broken doors, he didn’t really want to damage the Devil May Cry office anymore than he could help it. While it’d probably help if he could spar with Dante, currently, Dante reminded him a little too much of Vergil, especially considering the way Vergil had first appeared in his dream. So it might actually make things worse instead, even if Dante wouldn’t be wielding Yamato.

“Fuck.”

Dante finally let go of Nero’s shoulders to rub a hand across his face as he cursed even more creatively in his mind. The kid’s last dream was a sure sign that Vergil was getting stronger by the day. It wouldn’t be long now, he was sure, when Vergil would attempt to take Nero’s body for his own use and to hell with the kid himself.

“That about sums it up,” Nero agreed wryly.

It was then when the phone to the Devil May Cry rang and Dante went to pick it up.

“Hello, Devil May Cry,” Dante said in what sounded like an extremely bored and uninterested voice to Nero, making him wonder how the other hunter managed to get any business at all.

“Oh hey, Kyrie, right? Yeah, the kid’s here.”

Hearing Kyrie’s name figuratively made Nero sit up and take notice, his unease and frustration suddenly vanishing. Kyrie was like a miracle cure to all his troubles. Before Dante could even tell him to come over to the phone, he was already next to the other hunter and prying the phone out of Dante’s hands.

“Kyrie?”

Dante shook his head and said in an amused tone, “Geez kid, chill. It’s not like I’m going to run away with the phone, or your girlfriend.”

Sending a dark glare at Dante for even _daring_ to suggest taking away Kyrie, Nero then tuned out the rest of the world to focus his attention solely on his girlfriend.

 _“Nero, are you okay?”_

“Hey, Kyrie. I’m fine.”

 _Yeah right, you sure are_ , a voice in his mind snorted. Nero told it to shut the hell up.

Besides, hearing Kyrie’s voice always managed to soothe most of his troubles. He found that he really missed her, even if one of the main reasons for his departure was to protect her.

 _“Are you sure? Please don’t lie to me, Nero. You said you’d give me a call when you reached Dante’s place, but you didn’t. Did something happen?”_ Kyrie’s disbelief and worry were both clear in her words.

He sighed mentally. It seemed that nothing of his could really get past Kyrie… Even over a telephone. Although it was kind of his fault that he’d forgotten to call her like he had said he would. He decided on being as truthful as he could, without saying things that could severely alarm her.

“Sorry Kyrie. I guess I was caught up in everything, and kinda forgot.”

 _“Did you get the answers to the dreams you’ve been having then?”_

Oh, he certainly had. Grimacing slightly, Nero prepared himself to tell Kyrie about what the situation was like. He wasn’t going to lie to her about this, since it potentially concerned her safety too.

“Well, yeah I did. Dante’s elder twin brother, Vergil, has apparently… possessed me. And it doesn’t seem like he’s going to let me have control over my body much longer.”

There was a long silence from Kyrie as she absorbed and processed the implications of what Nero had said.

 _“Nero, I-”_

“You don’t have to worry about me, Kyrie. Trish is working on trying to find a way to remove Vergil before he decides that he’s waited long enough. I’m sure she’ll come up with something soon.”

Or so he hoped. After last night’s dream, he wasn’t sure if he really could stand against a full onslaught of Vergil’s will despite his previous words to Dante.

 _“I’ll help too!”_ Kyrie immediately volunteered. _“I’m sure I can find something in the Order’s library. What exactly is Trish planning to try to do?”_

“I’m not too sure. I can let you talk to her later,” Nero offered, knowing that this was probably something he couldn’t dissuade her from doing. There was, however, one thing he absolutely had to make Kyrie promise him. “But Kyrie, promise me that whatever happens you won’t come to Dante’s to look for me. In case… in case something goes wrong, I don’t want you in the line of fire, okay?”

 _“But, Nero…”_

“ _Promise_ me, Kyrie,” he insisted sternly.

 _“…I promise.”_

Knowing that Kyrie wasn’t one to break promises, no matter how reluctantly the promise had been given, Nero smiled a little in satisfaction. Regardless of what would happen to him, he was going to do his best to make sure Kyrie stayed safe. Never putting her in danger again would still be far too soon.

Catching sight of Trish from the corner of his eyes, Nero caught her attention and gestured for her to come over. To Kyrie, he said that he would hand the phone over to Trish so that the other huntress could tell her what needed to be done.

* * *

He couldn’t quite believe that _that person_ was so… _careless_. Letting his prey know that the predator was coming ever closer _was_ part of his plan. However, he hadn’t quite expected his prey to be still so lax about it.

Then again, he thought wryly, that was a defining aspect of that person.

It was almost _pathetically easy_ to gain control of his host’s sleeping body after he had crushed the boy’s mental defenses the night before and had then suppressed the boy’s memory of the last part of their encounter (it still wouldn’t do to show his entire hand to his prey just yet). He just had to make sure he was stealthy, just in case he woke the boy (which would be a complication that he currently did not want to deal with, especially for this), and being surreptitious had never been a problem for him.

He sat up slowly on the bed, trying to get used to having a solid form to control again after spending what felt like decades without one. He flexed his left arm carefully, feeling the muscles respond to his commands. Slowly at first, but then with more ease as he settled further into being in control of this body. The boy was in pretty good shape, from what he could tell. But it still remained to be seen if this body was as good as his original.

Probably not, though.

Then there was the boy’s right arm. The Devil Bringer. It was certainly quite a useful appendage in battle, but not one that he was used to having. Moving it felt the same like moving his normal arm, but he would still probably have to be careful with it in case he triggered its other abilities accidentally. However, there was still one particular ability that he wanted to be sure that he _could_ use.

Recalling the times that he had observed the boy summoning items, especially _one_ of them in particular, from the Devil Bringer, he followed what he’d sensed the boy do…

It was actually easier than he’d expected, probably because the Devil Bringer was attuned to this body’s commands even if the one in control was not the original owner.

The sleek form of Yamato manifested in the palm of his arm, its solid weight oddly reassuring.

A pleased smirk appeared on his face, twisting the countenance of the boy into one he was sure had never been seen on that boy before. But there was no one awake to blow his cover presently, and he was planning to let it stay this way for now.

Carefully, he left the bed, still holding onto Yamato, and made his way to the door of the guest room. He slowly eased it open, ensuring that it would not creak and catch the attention of the sleeping inhabitants of the house. Stepping out, he slowly followed the somewhat familiar path towards the staircase. There were still some… _kinks_ in using this body for he had gone so long without one. The muscles seized up for short periods of time as he figured out how to fluidly control a physical form again.

It would probably take awhile before he could fight well in this body. He, however, was determined to speed up the process.

Practice made perfect, after all.

As he approached the landing, his attention became drawn to the door to his right that was left ajar. Without even needing the knowledge the boy had unconsciously given him, he knew that this was _his_ room.

It was probably most unwise to do so, given the nature of the person sleeping inside, but still he couldn’t keep himself from moving closer to the door, and looking in.

The room was dimly illuminated by stray moon-rays that peeked in through the gaps of the haphazardly drawn curtains. But that amount of light was enough for his enhanced eyesight to see clearly enough. The room was sparsely furnished, with only the bare essentials for furniture. Only the bed looked slightly more lavish and comfortable when compared to the wood of the side table, drawers and cupboard.

Somehow, it did not surprise him that there was no proper desk, nor a bookshelf in sight. He would’ve been more surprised if the converse were true.

And he was just lying there on the bed, sleeping away. Silver hair looked almost pure white under the gentle moonlight, giving a false illusion of purity and innocence that the person there most assuredly _did not_ have.

He was _so close_. So close to his prey. There was the powerful temptation there to enter the room right now.

To draw Yamato out of its sheath, with the barest whisper of sound accompanying it, and cut out his prey’s still-beating heart.

But no. He would not.

Despite the strong, almost overwhelming _needcravingdesire_ for revenge that thrummed in his very soul, he would not achieve it like this. He had lost much – his own body and his time had been forfeited – but there was one thing that he refused to let it go despite all that had happened to him.

 _Honor._

He was a swordsman. He would face his opponent head on, face-to-face, and not engage in sneaky cloak and dagger antics. Certainly, he would never do something as dishonorable as attacking his prey _in his sleep._

Although, there was the distinct possibility that his prey would awake even as he closed in on _him_ in his sleep. If he didn’t, then he would be really surprised. He expected a certain standard from his quarry, after all. And despite how appearances showed otherwise, he knew _him_ enough to know that it wouldn’t be that easy to cut him down even with a sneak attack.

So he forced himself to draw back from the door. Then soundlessly, he disappeared down the steps to the main office and then out into the inky night.

He had preparations to make.

* * *

Nero felt really, _really_ tired. Unusually so. It was as if he hadn’t slept a wink last night and had instead spent it doing demon-hunting, when that had most certainly been _not_ the case. Dante hadn’t let him out of his sight for most of the previous day and had actually let _Lady_ attend to the jobs he got instead. From what he’d gathered over the last few days, Lady loved to poach so much on Dante’s business – and kept saddling the hunter with increasingly ridiculous amounts of “debts” for the smallest of things – that Dante usually _did not_ let Lady take his jobs if he could help it.

It was a testament to how worried Dante was about his situation with Vergil.

But it wasn’t only Dante who was showing signs of stress. There was a hard glint in Lady’s eyes as she left for the jobs that suggested that the demons she was about to kill would meet with a swift, bloody end courtesy of Lady venting her feelings on them. Trish too was hard at work, researching up a storm that she only appeared in the main office at rare intervals, a tiny but still noticeable frown on her lips.

It would appear that the research probably wasn’t going along well. But at the moment, Nero couldn’t bring up the energy to actually ask. He felt so exhausted that he knew it _had to be_ unnatural. It was entirely possible that Vergil had something to do with it, but what exactly, he had no clue.

Knowing that it was probably not a good idea to hide his fatigue, nor the reason he suspected for it, he still tried anyway. But either his luck wasn’t holding, his acting skills sucked or Dante had suddenly gotten a hell lot more observant over the past few days, he was stopped by Dante as he was exiting the kitchen.

“Kid, did you even get _any_ sleep last night?” the elder hunter asked, passing a critical look over his face and general body language. “Or did you have another ‘dream’ again?”

“I slept. No dreams, nothing,” he replied, trying his best to act the part of someone who’d had a good night’s sleep. However, he was thwarted when a huge yawn decided to make itself known right then and he was unable to prevent it.

It was undeniably frustrating. He didn’t dream of anything, nor did he even wake up in the night. By all logic and reason, he _should be_ well-rested, and not about to keel over from exhaustion from _merely standing up._

“ _Right_ … You totally slept well, I can see that,” Dante replied dryly.

To be honest though, Dante didn’t doubt that Nero had been asleep. But there was a niggling feeling that _something_ had happened during the time when Nero had been asleep, something that not even the kid himself knew. And that wasn’t good.

Plus, he had the strangest feeling when he awoke earlier that there had been someone in the Devil May Cry last night. Someone that wasn’t Trish or Nero, and hadn’t entered the building from the outside. Which left only one other person that could have possibly been inside.

The thought left Dante feeling cold.

 _Ice_ cold.

And god, even that was starting to sound like a bad, bad pun.

“Nero, I’ve always wanted to ask you, but never really got the chance to. But this is as good a time as any I suppose: How did you get Yamato?”

It was somewhat of a non sequitur, Dante supposed. But he wanted to know as much as he could about anything that was possibly connected to Vergil after his supposed death on Mallet Island.

Nero was silent for a moment as he collated all the memories he had of that incident. It wasn’t to say that he had forgotten about it, but as tired as he was, he had a feeling he might leave out some important details if he didn’t go through his memories carefully. He was quite clear Dante’s question had something to do with sorting out the mess he was in.

“Well, I was chasing after you. Then along the way, inside Fortuna Castle I stumbled across Agnus’ labs. Yamato was there in a broken form, although I didn’t take that much notice of it at first. I fought the first bunch of demons Agnus sent my way. After I defeated them, he started getting all creepy-mad-scientist on me because of my right arm. He wanted me as his next test subject for his demented demon research or something, as unhealthily fascinated with my arm as he was.

His talking distracted me so I didn’t realize that there were more demons around until it was too late and I got stabbed through the torso by a Bianco Angelo, and then pinned to the wall by the swords of two more of them. Agnus stabbed me again and then left me to be finished off by the three Bianco Angelos. I was losing consciousness, but suddenly I remembered the time when I almost lost Kyrie due to a demon attack. Then… It was like a hidden well of power started to flow out of me; I couldn’t seem to control it.

The next thing I knew, Yamato was in my hand, fully restored, and I used it to kill the three Bianco Angelos. I don’t think I was really fully in control of myself, but I remember that Agnus said that even he could not restore Yamato… And well, that’s how I got it.”

“It takes a lot to break a Devil Arm, and just as much to restore it. There’s practically no way for a human scientist to be able to restore Yamato… For you to be able to do it, I’m sure Vergil had to have been involved,” Dante speculated. “Yamato was entrusted to him by our father like how Rebellion was entrusted to me, so Vergil has a strong bond with Yamato. It was probably this bond that made it possible for Yamato to repair itself in response to his master’s power.”

Nero took a moment to process what Dante had said. Didn’t that sound like…?

“…Wait, you’re trying to say that when I Triggered for the first time, _Vergil_ was the cause of it?”

“Vergil knows how to look out for himself – well. If you had died then, he’d be left in a sticky situation again. So my guess is that while he’s been mostly dormant in the beginning, whenever you’re in danger, he’s definitely awake for part of it. Plus, you getting Yamato would be to his benefit too.”

“How the hell did I _not_ know Vergil was there _and awake_ all those times?” Nero demanded, although he was largely asking himself that question. There had to be _some_ indication whenever Vergil came awake, shouldn’t there?!

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Vergil can be pretty stealthy, and besides, I don’t think it’s all of Vergil’s doing. I’ve seen you in your Devil Trigger form, remember? The energy signature behind your aura then was definitely _not_ Vergil’s,” Dante assured the other.

It did, however, take him aback at the time, that the form Nero’s demonic aura took had a slight resemblance to Nelo Angelo. They weren’t completely alike, but there was enough of a resemblance there that he _had_ thought it was Nelo Angelo at first glance. But there was no need to freak Nero out even more with this bit of information. The kid looked ready to drop at the slightest thing already.

Instead, Dante merely added, “He probably just helped you awaken your Devil to get you out of that situation as well as to get back Yamato.”

“Gee… that’s real comforting.”

“Kid, that’s what I’d consider _very_ comforting since it is Vergil who we’re talking about.”

And _that_ , was probably the least reassuring thing Nero had heard ever since learning about Vergil’s presence in his body.

If Vergil only aided him for his own, self-serving purposes, he was going into be in very deep shit once Vergil decided not to “play nice” anymore.


	7. 06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's been awhile since I last updated this (even longer for those who follow it on Fanfiction.Net where it was originally posted)... Oops? Writer's block, new fandoms and university life added up, but well... at least it's out now? Strangely enough, I'm always most productive fanfic-wise when exams are near (because everything else but revision is more interesting)...

A few days had passed since Dante’s revelation that Vergil had aided Nero in Devil Triggering for the first time. Trish’s research, with Kyrie’s aid, had garnered some results. The downside to using said results was that the spell was quite a complicated one. 

Firstly, as a potion had to be brewed for the spell, it required ingredients and components that weren’t so easily obtainable. Secondly, the time required to brew the potion correctly would take a month – time which they _didn’t_ have, because nobody knew how long more Vergil would continue being dormant. Gut instinct told him that they didn’t have much more time to waste.

From Dante’s observations of Nero however, it was becoming increasingly clear that Nero’s strange, inexplicable fatigue over the past few days had to be because of Vergil. He had no idea what his twin was doing to Nero to sap the kid of his energy so badly, but to Dante, Nero’s tiredness signaled that the time Vergil was going to make his debut – so to speak – would be drawing near soon.

Which led him to consider one aspect of the spell that Trish had shared with him, and _only_ him. Trish had told Nero and Lady that the spell would remove Vergil’s spirit from his body, and both Dante and Trish could tell that Nero thought it meant drawing out Vergil’s spirit. Lady, to her credit, seemed to sense that there was something more to the spell, judging by her slightly skeptical expression. But she had said nothing, thankfully.

Certainly, the spell _would_ draw out Vergil’s spirit. But upon completion, it would also destroy Vergil, yet, frustratingly, the spell was useless if it was incomplete. Meaning that Vergil’s spirit would just return to its original host if the spell were not properly concluded.

 _That_ was the dilemma that Dante was thrown into.

As much as Dante had tried to squash it flat and dead multiple times over the course of many, _many_ years, there was _still_ a small part of him that dearly wanted his elder twin back. That part of him continued to hope against hope that Vergil’s reappearance this time would _not_ be a bad thing despite what history dictated. There was also the fact that, to Dante, if there was no other choice and Vergil had to die, he would rather Vergil go in a manner befitting the proud swordsman that his brother was (such as in a fair fight to the death) and not as a result of the spell.

Trish knew that when it came to Vergil, it was best to let him decide before anyone else made a move, and Dante appreciated her letting him, and only him, know. She had also suggested that although it would take time for the spell to be ready, they should still proceed with it just in case. As soon as Dante gave the go ahead, that is. The other thing she’d suggested was to have him tell Nero personally about the true effects of the spell so that the two of them could have a proper discussion over this matter.

Sometimes, Dante wished that female-kind didn’t have to make so much sense all the time.

But he had to talk to Nero about this. It was the kid’s life Vergil was affecting the most. Much as he rather defeat Vergil properly in a duel, Dante couldn’t do that when Vergil was using Nero as a host. Dante also rather doubted that Vergil would bail this time even if the kid’s body was giving out. If Vergil couldn’t win, then he’d probably drag the kid along with him just to give Dante one hell of a guilt trip in the process.

If sufficiently cornered, Vergil would fight to the bitter end, fight until he drew his last breath; his notion of honor would not allow him to surrender when there were no more options left. That, however, did not mean that Vergil cared about collateral damage, and Dante knew that Vergil wasn’t above using psychological tactics to count as a form of victory. Vergil would drag Nero to Death’s door and beyond with him if death was the only end waiting for him, even if Vergil would very likely have preferred to drag _Dante_ down instead.

It didn’t quite explain why Vergil hadn’t tried to do exactly that, eleven years ago, but Dante chalked it up to it being one of the things that he still could not understand about his twin. (He refused to give in to the hope that there could be other, more _sentimental_ reasons for what happened eleven years ago.) Regardless, what he _did_ understand about his twin was enough for him to know that if he could not be sure that Vergil did not have malevolent intentions for his return, then… 

Vergil could not be permitted to live.

* * *

“Kid, I need to have a talk with you,” Dante announced matter-of-factly the second Nero stepped into the small, mostly unused kitchen.

Nero blinked, trying to clear the fog in his mind. His fatigue was getting worse each day, and it was getting harder and harder to concentrate on things for any decent amount of time. He heard Dante, but his brain was taking quite some time to process exactly what Dante was saying.

“Huh? Talk? Oh right… okay…”

It was probably a _really_ bad sign even to himself that he didn’t even consider snapping at Dante for not using his name, even though he’d known for a while now that it was mostly a useless endeavor even if he _did_ snap at the older hunter.

“It’s about the spell that will remove Vergil’s spirit from your body.”

“What about it?”

“Trish didn’t tell you everything about it. It’s not just a removal spell. When the spell is completed, it will also destroy Vergil.”

Usually, Nero had no qualms about killing a demon that was clearly out to harm innocents. But he realized now that the demon in question was Dante’s twin brother. He couldn’t fathom having to kill his own family, which in his case would be Kyrie since he was an orphan and Credo was gone too. Nero didn’t know whether the talk of twins being psychologically linked and each being each other’s “other half” held any merit, but it definitely wasn’t going to be an easy task to have to kill the other.

“…this is not going to be easy for you, isn’t it?”

“From your interaction with Vergil, I’m already sure he isn’t borrowing your body to come and have tea and cupcakes with us. If he’s plotting something bad, he has to be stopped. Even if that means killing him… I’m prepared to do it. I _will_ do it.”

Nero could see that Dante was serious about this. He _would_ kill his twin if it came down to it. But there was a lingering reluctance in doing that deed; Nero could detect that in the way Dante had spoken. Despite their history, Nero suspected that Dante still wished that he didn’t have to be pitted against his elder twin. Perhaps if someone else could deal the finishing blow…

“There is… another matter,” Dante started, derailing Nero’s train of thought, and then paused. “Vergil had always been a person who took pride and honor very seriously.”

Nero blinked at the sudden change in topic. Or at least it felt like a change in topic. True, his mental faculties still definitely _weren’t_ firing on all cylinders right now, but there had to be a point to why Dante was suddenly talking about Vergil’s _character_ of all things.

“If you were Vergil, what would be your most preferred way of dying?”

“…is this meant to be some kind of a trick question, Dante?”

“Just answer me, Nero.”

It was slightly startling to hear Dante finally use his name after so long, but it spoke volumes about just how seriously Dante was in wanting to hear his honest answer. So Nero forced his sluggish brain to start working again so that he could give the other man a properly thought-out answer.

People who took pride and honor seriously… would probably loathe sneak attacks and other stealth tactics when it came down to fighting a worthy opponent.

“A straight fight, with no dirty tricks…”

“Yes.”

As Dante paused again, Nero’s mind seemed to be working at a faster rate now and he was able to piece together part of what Dante hadn’t said. Or perhaps had difficulty stating.

“You want to fight Vergil normally, right? But the spell… it won’t allow that. Am I right?”

“That you are,” Dante sighed. “This is just… I guess you could call it a personal preference. Regardless of his actions, Vergil always prided himself on his honor and code – questionable as they may be – and followed them to the letter…”

“Is there a middle ground?” Nero asked. “Is there some way to just remove Vergil’s spirit from me?”

“Unfortunately, no. This spell is useless if it’s incomplete. The spell will destroy Vergil after removing him from you, but if it isn’t done to completion, then nothing will happen.” Dante paused then before heaving a sigh. “Hell, I don’t even know why I decided to tell you all of this.”

Dante was tired. More tired than he’d ever felt even when dealing with demons and devils after him just because he was the Dark Knight’s, Sparda’s, son. Nothing could ever compare to having to face his blood brother again, regardless of the guise Vergil would be in this time. Perhaps it was also because he would be facing Vergil in Nero’s body, if it came down to that. Nero was a very good friend and thus made it all the more _personal_ if the fact that he was going to fight to kill his twin brother wasn’t personal enough already. 

He honestly _did not_ want to do it yet again, and that was probably messing up his thinking. Letting Nero know the truth about the spell was one thing, but perhaps he had made a mistake in letting the kid know about how Dante himself felt about the spell.

“Dante, look, I… I think I kind of get it,” Nero said. “Don’t interrupt me. I might not have a twin brother, or even a brother tied to me by blood but… Well, Credo was for the longest time like my elder brother and I know I’d do anything and everything to save him without needing to kill him. And, and if I had no choice but to kill him, I’d do my best to do right by him, to do it right. I know you said that I don’t stand a chance against Vergil in a mental match of wills, but I swear I’ll try. Then maybe you can find another way to remove Vergil without using this spell.”

Seeing how earnest Nero was kind of took Dante’s breath away. He hadn’t really expected anyone to understand his stance on Vergil. It figured the kid would be the one to surprise him on this aspect when, truly, they didn’t know each other all that well nor for a very long period of time. There wasn’t really much else that he could say to that declaration.

“Thanks, Nero.”

Nero gave him a slight smile. “Don’t thank me yet. There’s something else that I have to tell you. Don’t think you’ll like this bit.”

“I’m sure I’ve heard shittier things before. Spill.”

“Fine. Okay, Dante, if… if I _do_ lose control over my body despite my best efforts, I don’t want you to hold back when dealing with Vergil,” Nero said seriously. “I don’t want my body to be used as a tool to hurt any innocents again, so you’ll have to stop me. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t fought before.”

Nero hoped that if he assured Dante that he wouldn’t blame the elder hunter for injuring him, it would allay at least one more thing on Dante’s mind. It had to be hard enough to handle finding out his long-thought dead brother was alive and out for revenge.

Dante managed a wry smile at Nero’s last line. Guess the kid never really got that the two times they’d fought in Fortuna, he hadn’t exactly been serious. Both times, he had been either toying with Nero or testing him out. With Vergil, however, Dante had learned the hard way that “playing” was the worst thing to do. So he couldn’t hold back, but he would have to check himself from outright killing Nero – by accident.

The kid was hardy. Anyone with the blood of his old man in them would be. But chances were that Nero’s body would not be able to handle the level of abuse Dante knew he himself could take. And by that extension, the level of abuse that Vergil’s original body could take. So it was an inherent fear of Dante’s that he would overestimate Nero’s body’s capabilities when he was in the mindset of facing off against Vergil.

“Promise me that, Dante.”

“…yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll stop Vergil.”

* * *

Over the next few days, Dante continued observing Nero. Despite the kid’s words and despite telling Trish to try looking into other spells (he still gave her the go ahead to start on the original spell, though), watching Nero continue being visibly and mysteriously tired every day was not making him very hopeful. Vergil was doing something, he was sure. But whatever it was, he couldn’t say. Nero was maintaining that he’d slept through the night and hadn’t had any more encounters with Vergil in his subconscious, but Dante’s unease was not abating.

This particular weekend morning, Patty had come over and the place was a little crowded, what with Lady and Trish also present. Over the years, Patty’s visits had dwindled from daily to around thrice to twice weekly during term time, and when school was off, she’d be over a little more frequently. Dante attributed the reduced visiting frequency to having found her only surviving family, her mother, and quite understandably, she would want to spend time with her mother. Dante knew that if he were in her shoes, he’d be hard pressed to even want to be out of the same room as his mother. He probably wouldn’t ever admit it, but he was touched that he’d apparently left such a big impact on Patty that she would still make an effort to be around him even after everything had happened.

Whenever Patty showed up though, she still helped in cleaning out his office and lately, she’d been really quite eager to hang out around Nero. Through his eyes, Patty seemed to be more than a little fascinated with Nero… which wasn’t a very good thing right now. Having long since learned to trust his gut instinct, Dante decided that it would be sooner rather than later that he enforced the ban on Patty visiting the Devil May Cry.

He was coming down the stairs to the main office when he felt Nero’s aura suddenly become chaotic. Then Nero stiffened for a second before he hunched over, both his hands clutching his head, fingers clenching hard in his hair. Trish and Lady were starting towards Nero, but Patty was the one right next to Nero on the couch.

“Patty! Move away from Nero, now!” he commanded, even as he took the last few steps at demonic speed to close the distance between him and Nero.

Patty hesitated for a second, looking at Nero, but thankfully she obeyed him without protest. As she quickly ran to the other end of the room, Lady reversed directions to go and stand slightly in front of Patty, looking ready to defend the younger girl should anything happen. Dante was grateful for Lady’s quick analysis of the situation. That left him and Trish within immediate striking distance of Nero.

By this time, Nero was gasping and sweat was rapidly forming on his brows. He could tell that Nero was fighting it… fighting Vergil most likely. Perhaps because of that conversation he had with Nero, he decided to wait. Just a little longer.

No sooner than that thought crossed his mind, Nero’s aura flared wildly and in an instant, he had Triggered, destroying the couch that he was on as he crumpled to the ground. Most distressing was the fact that Dante could now feel a separate, but all too familiar aura intermingled with Nero’s and it felt more… dominant. Before Dante could do anything though, as if a switch had been flicked, the Trigger disappeared and then Nero began to scream. A horrible, spine-chilling sound forced out from what had to be pure torture.

“Lady! Get Patty out of here now!” Dante yelled. “Patty, remember what I told you before? From today, you’re not to come back here or find me until I tell you it’s okay. Got it?”

Lady gave him a terse nod, and began hustling a rather frightened, but still worried-looking Patty towards the exit. Patty looked at him and for a second, Dante almost thought she was going to _run over to hug him_ , but then the girl merely nodded in understanding. 

“Be careful, Dante! Trish!”

“We’ll be fine,” Trish reassured her.

“Go, now!” he added.

Then Patty was out of the main doors with Lady. Good.

Now… Now, he could only wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for ending on another cliffhanger when talking is what was mostly happening in this chapter, especially when I'm not going to, and quite rightly can't make any promises about the next update. But it was still the most appropriate place to end the chapter.
> 
> I've also made a minor edit to chapter 4, in which the time frame for when Nero got his Devil Bringer was changed. In short, he got it shortly before DMC4 happened. Made the change after rewatching the DMC4 cutscenes and realized that he wasn't very proficient with using the Devil Bringer at the start of the game... which also prompted me to revist this fic and complete this chapter. So yay for exam-time procrastination?


End file.
